


Blindsided

by unsubstitute



Category: Blake Shelton (Musician), Shefani, The Voice (US) RPF, The Voice RPF
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Romance, Slow Burn, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-04 03:44:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 42,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15833073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsubstitute/pseuds/unsubstitute
Summary: Blindside: verb. to catch someone unprepared; attack from an unexpected position.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> True story: I started writing this in November 2015. When Blake & Gwen took their relationship public I started writing, just trying to imagine how they got together. I would sometimes go back and rewrite an entire chapter, and sometimes would abandon it for months on end. But I always came back to it, until finally I hit a point of no return and had to finish. So now it's time to share it. I hope you enjoy! xo
> 
> ps some of this will probably make more sense if you've seen season 9 blind auditions recently, but you'll still get the important parts even without it.

Blindsided. 

Chapter 1. 

 

It’s been a long day, although one of his better ones in recent memory. If the rest of the season is anything like today, it’s gonna be good. There’s something about having Gwen on set that puts everyone in a better mood. The crew thinks she’s easier to deal with than Christina, Pharrell is more relaxed having a buddy around, Adam is on his best behavior in front of Gwen, and Blake himself has been looking forward to seeing her again since the bosses announced they were bringing her in a few weeks ago. The other coaches would babble some Hollywood bullshit about her having a good energy, and maybe they’re right. Whatever it is, he likes being around her.

He’s slow to leave after that first day. He’s not in a hurry for it to be over, so he takes a few minutes to catch up with the set guys and glance through his Twitter notifications before he gives up and calls his driver to meet him in the parking lot.

He notices her light on as he makes his way out of his trailer. Looking around the lot, there are a few crewmembers here and there, but Adam and Pharrell are long gone, and most everything is shut down for the night.

He thinks she might’ve just forgot to turn out the light until he sees a delicate flutter of movement behind the window blinds. Even her shadow is pretty. Before he can think about what he’s doing, he’s knocking on her door.

“Blake,” Gwen says when she finds him standing there. She has a giant black bag slung on her elbow, and her hands are full with phone, keys, a notebook, and a bag of goldfish crackers.

He stares and she giggles. “Oh my god I know. I totally stole my kids’ snack. Please don’t tell anyone! But I was in a hurry this morning and they were around...”

He chuckles. “Actually I was just wondering what the point of that 10 gallon purse is if you’re gonna carry everything in your hands like that.”

Her laugh is a little louder this time. “Ugh. I know. It’s crazy! But this bag is so big I can never, like, find anything fast enough. I should give up and get something smaller, but like, I was on a waiting list for this thing for so long and like, I want to show him off!”

With sentences like this she might as well be speaking Japanese. “There are waiting lists for purses? Is it a rental? Can’t you just buy your own?”

Her smile hits her eyes and he has to clear his throat when she looks at him like that. “Nooo. Designers only make a certain number of any one bag. So like, there’s a list to get their first batch, and then they sell the rest in stores, but like, if you want one and you don’t get it in time, you have to get on another list and they’ll send you another one when it’s ready. Usually I have people that can hook me up so I can get one right away but I didn’t see this one until it was too late and I like, love love _love_ it, so I got on the list. And the lists are crazy! Sometimes it takes like, months.” She laughs at herself, her eyes wide. “Whoa! Sorry. I guess that sounds so stupid, huh?”

He smirks. “Well...yeah. It’s just a purse.”

She tries to look offended but her eyes are sparkling. “This is not ‘just a purse.’ It’s a Givenchy.” She pronounces the word with a little French accent that doesn’t sound totally correct. She’s adorable.

“All right, well, sorry, Givahn-whatever-the-hell.”

She giggles again. He stares at her mouth.

“So what’s up?” she asks after a beat.

“Huh? Oh, right. Nothing, just wanted to tell ya goodnight.”

“Oh,” she says. She fidgets for a second and looks up at him. She’s changed out of those distracting red stilettos of hers and on flat feet she’s incredibly small. Even from a step below her he has to look down to meet her eyes. He shifts forward an inch. “Well, I’m glad you did,” she smiles. “Because I wanted to tell you how fun today was! I mean oh my God, you are so freaking hilarious!”

He shrugs. “Yeah we have a good time up there. I’m glad you’re back. It’s fun having you around. Nice to have someone who likes my jokes!”

And she laughs at that too. “I’m _so_ glad. I haven’t had a lot to laugh about lately...” she trails off. If possible, she becomes even smaller.

“Why not?” he regrets asking as soon as he does, because for an instant her face crumbles.

She shakes her head and doesn’t quite meet his eye. “Let’s not talk about it. I don’t want to ruin the whole day’s energy by talking about my shitty husband.”

That makes his eyes snap open, but he only nods. He can relate, and doesn’t particularly want to talk about that either. She takes a half-step toward him. His heart starts racing in the close proximity, but it’s less than a second before she’s turning around and checking the lock on her trailer. He moves down to the ground to give her room.

“Walk you out?” he asks.

“Okay,” she says, following him away from the trailer compound. “By the way, you should totally wear hats more often. You seriously looked really good today! I mean I know you were just being funny but I’m like for real! I liked it.”

He chuckles as he turns around to look at her. When she’s next to him he starts walking again, but lets her shorter legs set the pace. “Yeah...I don’t know about that. I think I’ll stick to my ball cap.”

“Fine, whatever, but like seriously, the hat is so cute!” He glances down, trying to meet her eyes, but she doesn’t look up. “I mean, the baseball hat looks good too though,” she adds.

Maybe the woman just really loves talking about fashion, and that includes hats. The feeling he gets from her compliment is his own problem. In the golden evening light, her smile sparkles. “But I should stop being nice to you. I’m still mad at you. I really wanted Morgan! And I totally had her and then you just jumped in with your stupid Nashville ties and that was it! Any country artist is just like totally off limits once you press your button. And she would’ve been like so good on my team! I mean, Cheap Trick! That’s so cool! Ugh, see? I’m mad at you.”

“Listen, I can’t help it if these country kids are smart. They know who can hook them up in the end.” He tries to stay tough but her pouting is adorable and he breaks into a laugh.

“Ugh! That is not fair. You’re literally like the freaking Godfather!”

He laughs harder.

“Actually, yeah! That’s exactly what it is!” she continues. “Giving these kids an offer they can’t refuse, so they feel like they have to pick you. Don Shelton and his country mafia.”

He lets out a loud barking guffaw and has to stop to collect himself. She’s grinning beside him, and looking awfully proud of herself.

“Country mafia. That’s cute. I like that.”

She giggles. “It’s true! They literally can’t say no to you!”

They both laugh again and then settle into quiet as they continue their walk. He’s surprised how comfortable he feels around her after just a day on set and a couple of meetings last week, after not seeing her for a few months. Eventually she bounces up and down, and says, “Okay, so, like oh my god, can we talk about how crazy Adam gets during these things? He’s _so_ intense! Like I definitely thought he was gonna punch you at one point!”

She’s egging him on, and happy for the distraction, he doesn’t disappoint. As he recalls the most competitive experience he’s ever had with Adam she doubles over beside him, nearly toppling over with her huge purse and full hands and beautiful gasping laughs. “Oh my God, he is seriously like, so crazy!” She breathes.

Later, in the car, her laugh is still ringing in his ears. He’s got the sense that something is going on with her that isn’t right, but she obviously doesn’t want to talk about it, to him least of all. And even with whatever that is, she’s still so happy. Jumping around, giggling and smiling, and making jokes. The country mafia. He loves that. He remembers her fake pout and smiles to himself.

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t bother to check the caller ID when the phone rings.

“Yeah!” he says to answer.

“Wow, you sound happy,” Miranda observes dryly.

“I’m always happy,” he quips.

“No,” she says. “You’re not.”


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2. 

She’s literally being crazy. She’s ready to leave for the night, but she’s lingering around trying to see if Blake will stop by her trailer on his way out like he did last night. She’s pacing by the door, trying to decide if this is a good idea, because maybe he’s already left and then she’ll feel even dumber than she does right now for waiting for him in the first place.

And there’s absolutely no reason for her to be acting like this. She should just go knock on his door the way he did to her. It shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s just Blake. He’s a friend. Any other friend she’d have no problem stopping by to chat. But there’s something about him that makes her feel weird. Like a little giddy and a little nervous, and it’s, again, completely crazy.

She’s acting like a little girl with a crush, she realizes, which makes her stomach roll, because that’s not what this is. Literally, it can’t be. He’s married, even if actually, she hasn’t heard him mention his wife once in the days they’ve been back. And anyway, Gwen’s married too, even if that’s only a technicality at this point. 

But still, she really wants to talk to him. She’s in such a good mood, and she wants to keep it going, and right now no one puts her in a better mood than Blake Shelton. She smiles just thinking about all the times he made her laugh today. So she takes a deep breath, closing her eyes and reminding herself she is a grown woman and not everything has to be so dramatic.

She makes it down one step out of her trailer when she finds herself face to face with a wall of plaid. “Oh!” she says as she smashes against him.

He chuckles, “Damn Gwen, if you wanted a hug all you had to do was ask.”

She grins at him. “Sorry! Hi! I was just coming to find you actually.”

“Oh yeah? Well perfect. Great minds, you know what I’m saying?” he points at his temple. She giggles at his shtick.

He takes a step back, so that he is on the ground. With a two-step boost, she is just slightly taller than him. He meets her eyes easily at this level. “So what’s up?” he asks.

“Oh! Nothing, really, I just...today was the craziest. I can’t stop thinking about it! I wanted to like...talk it out or something.”

He gives her this genuine smile and she ignores the warmth in her chest that it causes. “No kidding, man. I mean, I don’t know what’s weirder: a big nerdy guy that sounds like freakin’ Beyoncé, or a couple getting engaged in the middle of an audition! I mean, what?”

She laughs, “I know! I’m seriously still not over that Jordan guy.”

“Yeah, I bet he wins the whole thing.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” she agrees.

Blake nods his head and she thinks his shoulders straighten a little bit. “So listen, do you wanna have a beer with me? I’m still feelin’ kinda wired from the day too, and not really...well. I could use a beer, is all I’m saying. You in?”

“Um...sure! Is Adam coming too?”

His brow furrows and he fidgets the tiniest bit. “Uh, I think he’s headed home for night.”

She takes a long look at him, standing in the dim fluorescent lighting of the trailer compound at the end of the day. She thinks there might be something there she hadn’t noticed before: his skin looks tired, and his eyes aren’t quite as vibrant as they seem when he’s playing it up for the cameras. Like, maybe under that happy-go-lucky funny guy is a man who just really needs a friend.

He interprets her analysis as hesitation and adds, “I’m not tryin’ to be inappropriate or anything, just...ya know...buddies having a beer after work. People do that right? Normal people?”

She laughs again. “I think so. I don’t really know. But yeah, okay! A beer sounds good. Right? I don’t really drink beer actually. I mean I like it, I just...I’m not like around it that much.”

He puts a hand to his heart like she just told him she prays to the devil. “How is a person not around beer? Who are you? Where do you live that that’s possible?”

“Beverly Hills!” she sings to the tune of that Weezer song. She tries to do it straight-faced but it’s impossible. She feels her cheeks get hot. The corners of her mouth sting from smiling too much. 

Blake bursts out in a hearty laugh and claps his hands a couple of times. “Touché,” he says. “Well, Beverly Hills, it’s bout time you see how we do it in Oklahoma. You in?”

She grins again. “Okay, let’s do this!” and she skips alongside him as he guides her to his trailer.

***  
She’s surprised to learn the inside of his trailer is just like hers. She thinks of him as the star of the show, so she thought it would be bigger and more luxurious, but it isn’t. The only real difference is that the whole place has a much more lived in vibe. Her trailer always feels so impersonal and sterile, but his feels like somewhere people would want to hang out. The couch cushions are a little caved in, and it has a definitive man-smell: aftershave, food, and something more natural. He heads straight to the refrigerator in the little kitchenette and pulls out two bottles of Bud Light.

“It’s nothin’ fancy, I like to keep it simple,” he says, nodding at the brown glass.

She smiles. He’s so different from the other men she knows. “I didn’t expect it to be.”

He laughs and nods as he leads her to a worn black leather couch. He sits in one corner while she sits in the other, pulling her foot beneath her as she turns to face him. 

She watches as he takes a long drag from the bottle. His shoulders are slumped a little and in the soft trailer light, he definitely seems tired. It’s not just because they’re coming off a fifteen-hour day on set, she suspects. She waits, sipping on her beer—even more bitter than she remembers—and watches him.

After a minute, he turns and it’s like a light switches on. He chuckles, embarrassed at himself for letting his mind wander, and then gives her a small smile. “I was just thinking about that old guy with the beard, ‘gotta be careful around barbecue grills.’ That was funny.”

She chuckles with him, and doesn’t call him out on his obvious lie. “I know! So funny. He seemed nice.”

They talk about some of the more memorable contestants of the week, and he seems to relax as time goes on. When they run out of contestants to discuss, they settle into a comfortable silence. She glances at him and feels him glance at her as well. Eventually their glances meet, which causes an awkward giggle from each of them.

They don’t break the eye contact though. She sees him in her peripheral vision, leaning forward toward her, his long body able to reach her with almost no effort. As he reaches his hand out, her breath hitches and she prays he didn’t hear. She pulls her eyes from his to follow the movement of his hand, and breathes out a nervous puff of air as it settles on the beer bottle she’s holding, just one finger brushing hers as he jiggles the glass, feeling its weight. He’s scooted closer to her, so his voice is very near her ear when he says, “You need another one, I think. Unless...do you need to get home?”

She looks at her lap and picks at the label of the bottle. “The kids are in bed already and I don’t really have any other reason to get home, so...no.”

He gets a pained expression that she recognizes all too well. “Is that...do you wanna talk about it?”

She raises her eyes toward him and tries to smile as she says, “No. Not at all. I’d rather forget about it completely.”

“Well that I can help with!” he says, and hops up. He’s back in seconds with a second round, popping off the top as he passes it to her. She settles back against the corner of the couch and pulls both legs up so she can turn and face him fully. His big frame takes up so much space that when he tries to mirror her position, he takes up half the couch. She smiles into her beer.

They drink together in silence, and although there’s a nervous electric energy floating around them, she isn’t uncomfortable.

Finally, she says, “So when are you heading back to Oklahoma?”

“Supposed to be there right now, actually.”

That grabs her full attention. “What do you mean?”

“I had a flight, was supposed to leave a couple hours ago...whoops.”

“So what are you gonna do?” she laughs.

He shrugged. “Right now, I’m gonna drink more beer. Then I don’t know, I guess sleep here for a while, and I’ll catch my new flight in the morning. I called and changed it after that last girl sang.”

“Why didn’t you say anything! I didn’t need entertaining, you could’ve gone.” She pulls a foot out from under her and kicks his leg playfully.

“What and miss this?” he smirks. “No. I didn’t want to deal with it. I’m tired. I wanted a beer. Oklahoma can wait half a day.”

He laughs at her skeptical expression and takes a sip.

“Not really sure Miranda would agree with you on that,” she points out.

“Hmm,” he says. Suddenly he’s very interested in the beer he’s holding. A minute passes before he continues, “I think she might. We’re not exactly each other’s biggest fan right now.”

“Oh,” she says. “Is that something you wanna talk about?”

“Heh, no.” He laughs as he says it, but she thinks if she hadn’t been looking at him it might’ve sounded like a sob.

He tries to smile at her, but it doesn’t even reach his dimples.

“It’s hard,” she says. Talking, marriage, life...she’s not sure what she means at this point.

He sighs and takes a drink. There are lines in his face she’s never noticed before, and a clench in his jaw she doesn’t remember from six months ago. She’s overwhelmed with an urge to help him, so she claps her hands and jumps off the couch.

“Okay! New subject. Favorite 80s song of all time?”

He laughs at that and as he looks at her, his eyes start to sparkle. “Just one?”

“Yeah, your favorite!”

“No way, that’s impossible.”

“No it isn’t!” She protests.

“What is wrong with you? There’s like millions of good 80s songs, I can’t pick just one.”

She puts a hand on her hip and raises an eyebrow. “Too bad, you have to. Just like...your favorite 80s song right now, okay? You can have a different one tomorrow.”

He sighs. “Okay then, one 80s song...It’s ‘What I’d Say’ by Earl Thomas Conley.”

“Oh...I’ve never heard of that. Is that a country song?”

“Well, yeah...”

“Okay, so that’s country, that’s not 80s.”

“It’s a country song from the 80s...” He looks at her like she's an alien, but the stress is already fading from his face. It’s so fun to play with him.

“No,” she giggles. “But like, I mean _80s_ 80s. Like...I don’t know, like Poison or the Bangles or like...'Thriller'!”

He laughs for real this time, “That makes no sense! If rock and pop can both be 80s, then country can too! You don’t get to be the 80s music police, Gwen!”

Her giggles turn into a full fit. The way he twangs out when he pronounces her name rings in her ears.

“My favorite song is from the 1980s, that makes it my favorite 80s song!” he rants on.

She’s laughing so hard she can barely breathe. Her head falls back as she nearly cries up towards the sky, tears in her eyes. This conversation is so dumb and she wants it to last forever.

When she gets herself together a little she lowers her head and looks at him. The way he’s grinning at her makes her stomach flip.

“Well fine,” she says as she sits back down. “I give up.”

“I like Styx a lot, Hall & Oates, Mellencamp, Bon Jovi...” he says. “And the Cure. And...tons of people. Songs I’ll have to think about.”

“I LOVE the Cure!” she says.

He smiles, his most genuine smile of the evening so far, and it warms her.

“Actually they were a really big influence on my band.”

He nods his head like she’s just said something really profound. “I can see that, sure. Y’all did use a lot of synth, huh? Now that you said that I can hear some Cure in Don’t Speak.”

“Yes! Totally. Wow, you’re smart actually.”

He chuckles. “Well, I like to surprise you.”

She giggles, “No, but I mean, like, I knew you were smart but you have like, a really good ear. Not that many people pick up on that stuff.”

She thinks he might be blushing when he shrugs. “Well I’ve listened to that Tragic Kingdom album enough times in my life to pick up on the details.”

They grin at each other for a beat too long, their eyes shining as their gazes hold. Eventually she takes a swig from her beer bottle to give her mouth something else to do. She watches as he pulls his phone out of his pocket and scrolls through notifications on the screen.

“So can I hear it?”

He looks up, “Hear what?”

“That song. Your favorite song of all time?”

He smiles, the same way one of her kids smiles when they show her something new they learned. “Yeah. You sure you can handle it? This isn’t exactly Taylor Swift.”

“I can handle it,” she says, straightening her shoulders for effect.

He’s quiet while he looks through his phone to locate the song, but looks up suddenly, worried. “It’s not a happy song, either. I don’t know what you and your man got goin’ on but...”

“Just play it,” she interrupts. She refuses to let her personal tragedy ruin the moment.

He gives a little half-chuckle and mutters, “Okay...”

A synthetic keyboard begins playing a slow, melodic hook. “Wow, okay this is actually like super 80s,” she says with a laugh.

“See? You gotta trust me. If there’s two things I know in this world, it’s country and 80s music.”

She laughs again. He’s better than she is at keeping a straight face, but there’s a sparkle in his eyes that gives him away.

They’re quiet as she listens to the lyrics. The more she hears, the more a sinking feeling pulls at her insides. Somewhere in the middle, she hears, “There's times I feel so angry I'd put my fist right through the wall/Then there's times I've come so close to giving you a call/I love you and I hate you all at the same time,” and she feels wetness burn her eyes.

The second time the chorus plays, “How’s it going might be what I'd say/You broke my heart you know/Or it looks like rain today/Or maybe god I missed you since you went away/You’re lookin' well, or go to hell might be what I'd say,” she puts a hand to her mouth and wills herself not to get sick. Her mind is foggy and she has a feeling like she’s floating in space.

The song hasn’t ended yet when all of a sudden Blake is on his feet and heading back to the refrigerator. Grateful for the distraction, she watches as he leans down and pulls out two more bottles.

He walks up to her and places the new bottle on a coffee table by her knees, invading her personal space as he does so. He looks as shaken as she is. For a minute she wants to hug him, but thinks better of it. Instead she places a hand on his arm and rubs along his bicep. “The song is beautiful,” she says.

He nods, “yeah. Been my favorite for a long time now.” He looks at her with a wrinkled brow. “Sorry, maybe it wasn’t the right night to play it.”

She shakes her head, “It’s fine. I loved it actually. But maybe something more uplifting this time!” She takes her own phone out of her back pocket and scrolls through the music, settling on “Friday I’m in Love” by the Cure.

He chuckles and nods his head. “Good choice,” he says. She takes the last drag from her beer and grabs the fresh one he brought her as she follows him back to the couch.

“I love this song so much. It’s so simple, but you know exactly what he’s talking about and it just makes me want to sing and dance,” she says, settling in not quite next to him but not in the opposite corner either.

“Agreed. But you know, it’s technically not 80s. It’s from ’92.”

“What? No it isn’t.”

“It is.”

"No way, I know exactly what was going on in my life when it was super popular. It was like '89. I swear!" 

He smirks at her, "If you say so." 

She makes a noise in protest and consults her phone. Her face is starting to tingle with the buzz of alcohol, and it takes an extra minute to focus on the task at hand, but eventually she gets there. He laughs at the face she makes when she realizes he’s right. She wants to act upset about being wrong, but she can’t stop giggling.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3. 

He wakes up feeling like shit. His head is pounding, radiating pain down through his neck.

It takes him a minute to get his bearings. With contact lenses stuck to his eyes, blurring his vision, he scans his surroundings. He’s in his trailer. There are a lot of empty beer bottles scattered around. He’s sitting up in the corner of the couch instead of lying down, still fully dressed, boots and all. His eyes and brain start to focus at the same time, and the first thing he thinks of is Gwen. At least some of these bottles are hers. But when did she leave? Hopefully she called a car and didn’t drive home. If he’s this hungover, she might be worse.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on that, though, because he realizes he’s been woken by an alarm. He checks his phone and there along with a tone that sounds like carnival music is a message that reads “Don’t miss your flight!!” followed by two pink hearts and an airplane emoji. And since he sure as hell didn’t set that, he guesses Gwen must’ve done it before she left. This morning? Last night? Hopefully the rest of the details come back to him. He’s 90% sure they didn’t do anything wrong, and decides to ignore the fact that those 10% are even in his head.

**

He lands in Oklahoma 3 and a half hours later, desperate for a shower and some Gatorade. Or a bloody Mary. He texted Miranda when the plane started to descend and got an “Ok” in response, but 45 minutes and 2 bottles of water later, a ranch hand shows up in Blake’s truck to drive him home. They’ve had this week together planned for a month, and he’s been dreading it. The things he needs to say have to be done in person, but now that he’s almost home, he isn’t so sure how he’s gonna go about it. Her failure to pick him up herself is not a good start.

The kid driving him spends the entire ride glancing at him nervously and fiddling with the radio, which is acting up for no reason. He can’t decide if the kid is nervous because Blake might puke all over the truck cab any second, or because of what’s waiting for him when he gets home, a full 14 hours later than promised.

He somehow manages not to get sick, but when they pull up to the house and the kid is still fidgeting, Blake decides to forget the Gatorade and go straight for the vodka. He’s behind the wet bar adding an extra shot and some Tabasco to his bloody Mary when he hears footsteps down the hall.

“Already?” Miranda asks as a greeting.

He smirks and lifts his glass to her. “Hair of the dog. You want one?”

Her face is blank as she shakes her head, “No.”

“Suit yourself then,” he says, and takes a gulp. He lets out a whoop that sounds a lot more excited than he feels. “That’s good.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You got anything to say?”

“Um...hey?”

She glares. “I was thinkin’ more like, ‘sorry’ or maybe an explanation for why you’re here a day late.”

He shrugs. “Oh right. Sorry. There wasn’t anything I could do about it. Taping ran long.”

She sighs. “Whatever. When you’re done with that, you need to mow the lawn. It looks trashy. Unless you don’t think you can handle it.” 

“It really needs to get done right now?”

“Just because you can’t get here when you say you’re going to doesn’t mean I’m gonna rearrange the entire week for you. The lawn needs to get done today so we can do other stuff tomorrow before we leave for the show in West Virginia. But I guess you didn’t think about that. I swear you don’t think at all.”

He knows all her signs, the way her cheeks turn hot pink when she’s upset and her shoulders get so tense you could use her as a battering ram. So he knows he should probably keep his mouth shut, but his head hurts and he’s more than a little pissed off that she has the audacity to be mad at him right now.

“What the fuck? It’s just grass,” he says, more forcefully than he intends, “It’ll still be there in the morning. Or later today, even. I don’t know what your damn problem is.”

“You know what? Fine. I’ll just do it myself! Have another drink, asshole!”

“Stop! Jesus. I’ll do it right now. And after that, I think it’s time you and me have a talk.” He takes a gulp of his drink and storms to the bedroom without waiting for her answer.

He calms himself a little by thinking of what Gwen and Adam would say about his lawn-mowing outfit—a white t-shirt, basketball shorts, and work boots. He can hear them giggling in his head and it almost puts a smile on his face. Adam said once he’s convinced Blake even sleeps in jeans, but it’s hot as hell in summer in Oklahoma and with the hangover still lingering on he might literally pass out if he doesn’t plan it right.

The mowing is miserable enough even with the shorts. The whole thing takes three hours, including a couple breaks for water, pissing, and then beer. He and Miranda thought the push-mower was funny when they bought it, but today he’s not sure why. In fact, he’s not sure why he didn’t just make that kid who picked him up from the airport do it. Still, when he’s finally finished, he’s feeling better. The hangover is gone and he’s got a little buzz on, a combination of adrenaline and Bud Light, so he’s in a much better mood than he was when he started. Before he even reaches the house he tweets out a message boasting this accomplishment. It is a big lawn and nobody uses a push mower anymore. Nobody’s calling him lazy tonight.

He’s still feeling good when he finishes his shower, but the high spirits change as soon as he finds Miranda waiting for him in the middle of their bedroom, arms crossed and whole body tense. The angry pink on her cheeks a few hours ago has evolved into a furious beet red he’s only seen a few times before.

“What now?” he sighs.

“You fucking son of a bitch!” she screams and launches something towards him.

It’s more reflex than awareness that he catches his cellphone after it pummels him in the chest. “What the hell?” he asks.

“You tell me! You are unbelievable. I knew this was gonna happen, I fucking knew it.”

“Miranda, I have no idea what you’re...” he looks down at the phone and sees the problem.

There, alone on the screen is a text from Gwen: “Hope my alarm worked! Last night was SOOO FUN!!! Let’s do it again when you get back. Good luck at home” followed by three more of those damn pink hearts and two kinds of smiley faces. 

He takes a deep breath. Of all the damn things to happen, he thinks...he isn’t sure whether to laugh or scream. His mouth works quicker than his brain though, and he hears himself make a mean-sounding snicker. “Well this is pretty goddamn ironic,” he mutters.

“What did you say?” she demands, but she doesn’t let him answer. “I cannot fucking believe you. That’s why you stayed in LA last night? To fuck your little dream girl? Perfect Gwen is fucking married dudes, doesn’t sound so perfect to me...”

“My dream gi—“ he starts but stops, shaking his head. “You got this all wrong. Nothing happened. It was just drinks. We’re just friends.”

“Friends who you change your flight for, instead of coming home to your _wife_ , who you never get to spend any time with by the way, and I don’t even want to know why you’re using her alarm clock...”

“It was my alarm—you know what? Never mind. I changed my flight because work ran late, and since I didn’t have anything else to do, I had some beers with my coworker after work.”

She stares long and hard at him. He tries to stand his ground but he gives in before she does and looks at the ground. “Fuck off. I saw that message, she’s not even trying to hide anything.”

“That’s just Gwen! She texts like a 15-year-old girl! I’ve never met anyone who uses more damn emojis in my entire life.”

“Oh so you admit you’ve been texting with her.”

He sighs. The beer and adrenaline that were fueling his good mood a few minutes ago are suddenly having the opposite effect, and he’s struggling to stay calm.

“Don’t think I never noticed how you talked about her,” Miranda sneers. He focuses on the way her fingernails are digging into the skin of her palms instead of looking at her red face. “Or looked at her. I just never thought she’d give a loser like you the time of day. I thought she was better than that. But I guess she’s just another desperate slut, huh?”

And the dam breaks.

“Miranda,” he says, barely recognizing his own voice, deep and sinister. “Gwen is not the problem here. The only slut in this conversation is you.”

Her eyes go wide at that. She looks like he just backhanded her, and he may as well have. He nearly throws up.

“Excuse me?” she says. He can hear the tears stuck in her throat, quieting her yelling.

But now that he’s gone there, he can’t turn back. So much for a civil, well-timed discussion. “I know about the tour manager,” he says.

She opens her mouth once, closes it, and tries again. “What are you talking about?”

“Your tour manager. The one you’ve been fucking all spring. What’s his name? Rob or something, innit?”

She screams. It’s a terrifying sound, like something out of a fairy tale when the villain is slayed. He says nothing, just stands still, sweating and trying not to cry.

“That is so like you,” she grits out. “His name is Ryan, you son of a bitch, and he pays a fuck of a lot more attention to me than you do, too busy with your perfect little Hollywood life with Adam and your precious girlfriend Gwen and all that attention you love so much. So yeah, I’ve been getting mine from someone who actually could give it. And let me tell you, it was fucking great. Because he’s not some drunk, sloppy oaf. Nice to have someone who can actually keep up with me for once!”

He turns away at that, heading for the door. The air in the bedroom is suffocating.

But she isn’t done, so she follows him. “Of course. Just walk away and give up. God forbid you actually get angry. I swear it’s like being married to a fucking dog. Except the dog’s more likely to come when I call.”

That’s enough for him. “Well if I’m such a fucking disappointment of a husband, why don’t you just leave?”

She actually looks surprised, and he snorts a half-laugh in spite of himself. “What?” she says.

“What the fuck are you even doing here?”

She stares at him. “I’m trying... we said we were gonna spend the week together, talk about things, I thought that meant...shit. I was looking forward to it, unlike you, obviously.”

This time his laugh is loud and harsh. “That’s fucking bullshit and you know it. You’re not gonna be the victim here. I haven’t seen you in six weeks! You just told me you’re fucking someone else, which I already knew, and you just told me all the reasons why I’m a failure of a husband. So again what the fuck are we doing?”

She doesn’t answer, but he watches as her shoulders deflate and her face softens. “Honestly, I ain’t got a clue. I don’t...”

And suddenly it occurs to him that he’s not done being angry. He’s barely even started. “I know it wasn’t just Ryan or whatever his name is. I know there’s been others. And I know I got my problems. I’m not home much and yeah, you’re right, I do like my life out there. A lot more than I like life here, lately! You’re my wife, and I want to make it work but I don’t see how it can. The trust is gone. I can’t keep doing long distance with you after all this. So are you willing to quit your tour and come to LA with me? Because I’m sure as hell not quitting the Voice,” he chokes down the “for you.”

“Oh right, because you wouldn’t wanna leave behind the people most important to you,” she spits.

They’re both near tears and he wants to reach for her, but he stops himself. He stays still and silent.

“So that’s that then?” she says.

He stares at her for a long moment. “Unless you can figure out some way to fix it.”

Her eyes are wet, but no tears spill. She shakes her head, “No. I guess we both know it’s done, don’t we?”

He doesn’t answer that. Instead he says, “I’m gonna go to Mom’s, I need to get out of here.”

She actually looks surprised, which is more confusing and heartbreaking than any other part of this.

“What about Friday? The show,” she says.

“What about it? You sing. Then I sing. Not like we’d be hanging out anyway.” He steps past her and heads back into the bedroom to pack a bag.

“You’re right,” she says.

“First time for everything,” he mutters.

Half an hour later, he finds her outside on the front porch as he’s leaving. Her cheeks are tear stained, but her eyes are steel. She has a glass of bourbon in her hand.

“All right,” he says, “Well, maybe I’ll see ya Friday. If not then, I don’t know, just...guess I’ll be seein’ ya.”

She doesn’t move. He doesn’t look at her as he walks away, but he stops when she calls after him. He can hear the Knob Creek in her voice, bitter and sharp. “You know actually Blake, I’m sad, but mostly I’m just relieved.”

He waits until he gets to his truck to let himself cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire chapter is based off of Blake tweeting about mowing his lawn on the day the chapter took place. 8D


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4.

She’s alone in her house. She can’t even remember the last time that happened. The boys are with their dad. Her assistant and the housekeeper have the day off. She’s laying in bed in the same t-shirt and sweatpants she’s had on pretty much all week. The lights are off, the curtains are drawn, and it’s dark in here, but she can’t sleep. There’s no reason for her to be sleeping, since it’s the middle of the afternoon, but sleeping is so much easier than thinking. Especially when she’s alone.

It’s the Fifth of July. The day after a good holiday has always been horrible, always a let down after a great time, but this one feels worse. Independence Day, she thinks, and almost smiles. She’s definitely independent right now. The cold war with Gavin escalated this week because she wanted to be with the kids for the holiday, also her dad’s birthday, and he refused to trade weekends. He’s fucking British, this is like the opposite of his holiday, but he wouldn’t budge. It probably didn’t help that the entire conversation went down first via the nanny and then by email because she doesn’t want to talk to him. She’s just as likely to throw something at his head as she is to speak to him like a normal person right now. So she ended up agreeing to let him come to the party too. She has no idea why he even wanted to be there, it must’ve been so awkward, especially with Todd, Jen, Jill and her mom all shooting daggers at him the whole time. It was terrible, obviously. And at the end of the day, when it was time for everyone to go home, her children went off with their father and she came back here, to this big empty house.

So today the kids are at the beach with Gavin, and she’s at home in her bed. Her family members all have taken turns trying to convince her to come hang out with them, but she isn’t in the mood. She completely ignored an invite from her friends. For one crazy minute she thinks about actually joining Gavin and the boys, but she doesn’t want that either. It’s a horrible feeling, missing the family so much but wanting nothing to do with her husband. It’s too complicated. She rolls over and groans into her pillow. The situation makes her think of that break-up song Blake played for her last week, which takes her thoughts to Blake himself.

She never heard back from him after that night they got drunk and passed out in his trailer. She figures he’s probably busy doing...whatever cowboy stuff he does in Oklahoma, plus he’s with his wife, and it’s not like Gwen and Blake are best friends or anything. It does kind of feel like they are when they’re together, but he probably makes everyone feel that way.

She reaches for her phone, stuffed under her pillow for easy access, and pulls up her 80s New Wave playlist—80s _and_ early 90s actually, thanks Blake. She closes her eyes and lets the music hypnotize her. Her acupuncturist told her she should practice mindfulness and try to only be aware of her surroundings and not her thoughts. She’s tried a few times but it’s literally impossible. The music helps, though. 

It works so well that when her phone rings unexpectedly, it sounds so loud by her ear that for a crazy moment she thinks it’s a fire alarm. But all panic leaves her when she sees who’s calling.

“Hello?”

“Oh, uh, hey. Gwen! Hey,”

She props herself up on an elbow. “Blake...”

“Is this a bad time?”

Even as her smile gets bigger she tries to play it cool, “Um. No, not really. What’s up? How’s Oklahoma?”

He’s quiet for a beat. “It’s...well, I don’t know. I’m back in LA.”

“Oh—“

He cuts her off before she can ask any questions. “Long story. So anyway, I know you’re probably busy with your family or friends or whatever, but I was wondering—uh. Adam and Bee are having some people over tonight, and...uh. I’m gonna be there, and well I mean I know his friends and everything but I thought it’d be nice if I had a friend of my own there, too. And they love you, obviously. Like I said, I know it’s short notice and you have your own life, but if you’re not busy for some reason it’d be awesome if you—“

She interrupts, trying—but failing—to hold back a giggle because his rambling is cute. “I’m free, actually.”

“Oh! Really?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have plans with—“

“That’s a long story, too,” she says.

His voice softens, “I had a feeling.”

Her face burns and she has to blink hard before she changes the subject. “So what time tonight?”

“Oh! Anytime. I mean, I think the party starts at 8 or something, but you’re welcome anytime. I’m just here hanging out.”

“Oh, you’re there now?”

He chuckles, but it doesn’t sound amused. “Yeah. I’m staying here. That house in the Hills is too big and...uh...well, I didn’t want to be alone.”

Her heart breaks, because she can imagine his face and knows him well enough to understand it must have been hard for him to admit that.

She looks down at herself, feeling her hair. It’s greasy. _She_ is greasy. She’s gonna need some serious maintenance before she leaves the house. “How about I just text you when I’m on my way?”

“Perfect. Good, glad you can make it.”

“Me too. See you soon.” She smiles as she hangs up, and puts a hand to her mouth as she falls back against the pillow. She wasn’t expecting to smile today.

**

 

She tries to wait around her house until 8. She really tries. But after two hours of getting ready and another 45 minutes to change her outfit three more times, she’s out of ways to stall. And if she waits around, she’s just as likely to end up back in bed, so she texts Blake and on his advice, calls a black car to pick her up. “My guy,” Blake calls him. 

A wave of nausea hits as soon as she steps out of the car onto Adam’s driveway. Music is blasting and girls are scream-laughing somewhere in the back and she realizes she has not thought this through. As she looks down at herself, dressed in a sleek black tunic with tight jeans, black heels, and a bold piece of black dip-dye extensions attached to her deep side-part, it occurs to her she has no idea what kind of party this is. She thinks she hears water splashing amongst the thumping bass and shrieking. It’s too late to turn around, though, because Blake’s driver is halfway down the block. She texts Blake in the hopes that he’ll meet her at the door, since she’s not technically invited to this party, she’s an hour early, and she has no idea what to expect. But when she rings the doorbell she’s greeted by Behati, wearing a super tiny bikini top and even tinier jean shorts, her amazing supermodel body on full display.

“Oh, Gwen!” she says, trying unsuccessfully to hide her confusion, “I didn’t know you were coming. But welcome! Come on--”

“Gwen, hey!” she hears Blake call from behind Behati. He comes jogging up, “Hey buddy,” he says and gives her a hug.

He smells like deodorant, Corona, and second-hand smoke, which doesn’t help her nausea, but the hug feels nice anyway. He’s so big she feels cocooned in his arms.

“Hi,” she says into his shoulder. He holds onto her another beat, and she can see Behati’s raised eyebrow in her peripheral vision.

When he lets go she takes a step back and looks at him. His face is red and his hair messy. “Started without me I see,” she teases.

“Oh come on, you know I need a head start, you’ll catch up with one damn drink. Speaking of which, let’s get you a beer. Or wine? Is there wine?” he turns to Behati.

She’s staring at them and it takes a split-second for her to respond. “Um, yeah of course! Red or whi—“

“Actually beer is good,” Gwen says. “It feels like a beer kind of day, right?”

“It’s always a beer kinda day, Gwen.”

He gives a ‘ladies first’ motion and waits as she steps in front of him, then leans in over her shoulder, saying “cooler’s out back.”

She has no idea where she’s going as she leads him through the house, with nothing but the sound of music and models to guide her. When she starts to turn the wrong direction, she feels the pressure of his fingers on the small of her back, steering her the right way. After she corrects her course he doesn’t take his hand away, and the heat against her spine nearly makes her stumble. It seems like an hour goes by, feeling his touch on her, when they finally reach an open set of French doors, leading to Adam’s massive deck and pool. "Here we go,"Blake says. 

They're barely past the door frame when she hears a high-pitched, "Blake!! There you are!" A young woman, with a triangle bikini barely covering her d-cups, and shiny legs a mile long, comes skipping up to them. Blake increases the pressure of his fingers against her back, tightening his grip, as he steps up next to her. The girl plants herself right in front of him, inches away from his chest, and doesn't seem to notice Gwen at all. She holds up a bottle and says, "time for shots! I hope you like tequila!"

Blake laughs, a nervous hint to it, and his hand inches lower and away from her middle, slipping below the thin fabric of her top to make its way to her hip. The movement pulls her closer to his side and while Gwen nearly chokes on the air, the girl doesn't notice. She's looking Blake dead in the face with glassy green eyes and a clueless smile, swaying a bit while she waits for a response.

"I better not," Blake says, smiling that charming cowboy smile. “But my friend here needs to catch up!” He tilts his head toward Gwen, and the model finally notices her.

“Oh,” she says, and then her eyes go extra wide with drunken recognition. “Oh! Omg!! You’re Gwen! Oh wow. I love you so much. Yes definitely, please definitely take a shot with me! Wow this is so cool, I grew up listening to you!!”

Normally, Gwen loves this comment. It’s exciting to hear from long-time fans, and to learn maybe she had some kind of positive effect on people’s lives. But tonight, a drunk model is hitting on her... Blake...and it hits Gwen she might be twenty years older than most of the other girls here. Her self-pity is interrupted by the feeling of a strong thumb rubbing circles just above the waistline of her jeans. Whether he’s doing it because he can feel her tension, or because he’s drunk and doesn’t realize, it fortifies her.

“Awww, you’re so sweet,” Gwen says to the girl. “I haven’t had tequila in, like, a really long time.”

“Oh my God, you’ll love it!” The girl says as she bounces up and down.

Beside her Blake laughs at her enthusiasm. “Well that’s settled then, ladies. Shots for both y’all!”

The girl pours more tequila on the ground than in the glass, but when she eventually gets it close to fill she hands it to Gwen before pouring one for herself.

“To bananas!” she cheers.

Gwen laughs and tosses the gold liquor back, trying not to look too stupid as she gags on the warm, burning liquid.

Blake cheers her on, as his warm, thick fingers squeeze the flesh above her hip bone. “Atta girl, Gwen!”

He ignores the model completely, and she must take a hint because she smiles a sloppy grin, holds her empty glass up to Gwen in salute, and skips away.

“How do you feel?” he asks her. He leans in to get his face close to hers, and his breath reminds her that he’s been here for hours.

“Probably not as good as you,” she laughs.

He smiles, “well let’s fix that! You need more tequila.”

She laughs again and shakes her head. “I thought it was a beer day?”

“Damn right. I told ya, it’s always a beer day.”

**

There are plastic buckets filled with ice and beer bottles all around the pool and patio. She trails behind Blake as he finds the nearest one, but instead of picking out a couple of beers, he picks up the entire bucket, and turns to her. “You wanna go find some place to talk?”

She laughs at him, wondering how he can be so cool and funny all the time, when she feels so awkward. He gives her a little smirk, clearly proud of himself for making her laugh. His eyes meet hers in the moment and her laughing stops. She thinks maybe her breathing stops too. When he looks at her it feels like no one has ever seen her before.

The moment breaks with a familiar voice shouting from a few feet away. "Hey! Blake! What the hell are you doing you big dumb--oh! Gwen!"

He doesn’t move, his gaze still on her. She forces herself to look away, focusing on Adam instead. Beside her Blake props the bucket against his hip while he grabs a beer out of the ice, flicks the cap off with two strong fingers, and takes a long swig.

Adam jogs up to her and pulls her into a hug. "Hey! This idiot didn’t even tell me you were coming. I thought you were just-" he stops talking but the "some drunk model" is implied.

She glances at Blake, who is focused completely on his beer. “Thanks for letting me crash,” she says to Adam.

“You’re not crashing, you’re always welcome here. Literally! I’m so pumped you came! Do you need anything?”

“He’s about to tell you about the food,” Blake interjects.

Adam ignores him, “There’s a bunch of food in the pool house. Are you hungry? We have the most amazing black bean salsa you’ve ever had in your life.” Gwen laughs and looks at Blake who gives her a knowing nod and a little eye roll.

Adam keeps going, unphased. “Seriously, it’s so good I don’t know how it’s even possible. There’s avocado in it, and corn, which normally I wouldn’t like because of the whole simple carb thing but this is so, so good I don’t even care. C’mon, if you’re drinking with this lug you need to eat something first.”

Adam marches away and Gwen guesses she’s supposed to follow, even though she hasn’t said a word, so with a glance over her shoulder she goes with Adam to his beloved salsa. In the pool house, Adam keeps talking, excitedly describing all of the different items on the spread. She tries his salsa and a couple of other recommendations and wonders if he ever stops talking. But he’s so cute, trying to make her feel welcome, she just lets him keep going.

After a few minutes someone bumps into her from behind and she looks up to find Blake has followed them, and is hovering over her, watching Adam rave about a red pepper dip. When he starts describing the deli where Behati buys their hummus, Blake interrupts. “Jesus, is this a pool party or the Food Network? Why don’t you let the woman breathe!”

“Well why don’t you shut up?” Adam says. “I’m just trying to be a good host, dickhead.”

Blake laughs at that and stuffs a whole tortilla chip in his mouth. Without swallowing, he says, “Oh I’m sorry. Gwen, do you want to hear more about the hummus, or do you wanna have a beer?”

She smiles apologetically at Adam, who sighs dramatically. “Well will you at least eat a cupcake? No one here eats gluten, I don’t know why we bothered.”

She laughs and puts two cupcakes on a plate, one for herself and one for Blake. He, and his bucket of beer, are waiting for her at the door. But as he steps aside to let her through something catches his eye. There’s a sparkle in his baby blues as he glances at her then sets down his cooler and walks up to two young women who are playing bartender in the pool house wet bar.

“Ladies,” he says. “What ya got there?”

The girls both look up at him, one giggling and one looking like she’s trying to stay standing. He looks back at Gwen again and smiles mischievously, and she’s sure she’s gonna have a hangover in the morning.

The giggling one giggles, “It’s a surprise! You want one?”

“What kind of surprise?” he drawls.

More giggles. “The surprising kind! Nothing too bad, promise.”

He turns and grins at Gwen, motioning for her to join him. “Okay, you convinced me. Me and my friend here will both take one.”

Gwen laughs and stares at the bright red liquid the girl is pouring into two shooters. “I don’t know about this,” she says.

“Oh come on! You’re literally a rockstar, you can do this! Don’t let me down now.”He raises a challenging eyebrow at her, daring her to make a move. 

She smirks at him, and without another word she picks up both of the shots the girl has placed in front of them and throws them back, one after another. She immediately regrets it, and nearly throws up, but Blake’s reassuring hand against the back of her neck distracts her from the wave of nausea.

“Whoa, damn Gwen! You’re not messing around! See?” he says to the girls, “Total badass rockstar.”

She swallows once to make sure her stomach is settled and looks up at him. “You told me I need to catch up.”

He laughs loudly at that and grabs a shot of his own from the stock the girls are lining up on the bar. “Ugh it tastes like cough syrup. For the rest of the night, it’s just beer.”

“And cupcakes,” she says, holding up the plate. 

When he laughs again, she tells herself it’s the alcohol, not the sound that warms her.

He picks up his bucket and leads her out of the pool house. In the time they’ve been in there, the crowd around the pool has doubled, the volume of the music and noise increasing with it. 

“Mind if we go find someplace quieter?” Blake leans close to her to make sure she hears. 

When it’s just the two of them, his face gets more serious, the goofy cowboy act fading without an audience.

“Good idea,” she says nodding. She finds herself staring into his eyes. Lately, she’s noticed she’s pretty good at knowing what he’s thinking, but tonight is different. The longer their gaze meets, the more unsure she becomes. She swears his irises are darkening the longer she looks at them and eventually she has to look away from their intensity. But even without seeing him she can feel his eyes still on her.

“You are…so beautiful,” he says after a minute.

The comment, and the softness of his voice when he says it, are more surprising than whatever was in the shots she just took, and much more potent, too. She’s grasping for a response when a loud splash followed by screaming distracts them both, and saves her from saying anything stupid.

The moment passes and with the beer bucket slung over his arm, Blake puts his smile back on, grabs one of Adam’s cupcakes off her plate, and nods towards a place in the opposite direction from the crowd. She takes her own cupcake, abandoning the plate, and by the time she’s peeled the wrapper down on hers, he’s stuffed his entire cupcake in his mouth.

There’s a short stone retaining wall separating the pool and deck from the rest of the yard, and even as she’s settling on top of it, he asks, voice muffled slightly by cake, “Is this alright? We can find some chairs instead if ya want.”

“This is perfect.”

The three shots hit her all at once, and suddenly she can’t seem to stop smiling—a drastic change from the rest of the weekend. Blake notices and shoots a grin back at her. He sits down, his hip nearly brushing hers. She licks at the frosting of her cupcake with the tip of her tongue, letting it play in the sticky, heavy texture. Every once in a while she gets a taste of the rich cocoa of cake, contrasting with the intense sugary sweetness of the topping. She’s completely entranced by what she’s doing, until her face begins to feel warm with the feeling of someone watching her. She looks over and finds him staring. She’s mid-lick, tongue buried in a blanket of frosting, and that’s where his eyes are focused. She’s drunk and practically making out with a cupcake and he’s clearly enjoying the view. She scoops her tongue and its frosting back into her mouth and smiles shyly at him.

As she faces him though, she can’t help but laugh, because she notices for the first time since she sat down that he has chocolate crumbs all over his lips. Instinctively she drops the cupcake and reaches for him, wiping at his lips with the pad of her thumb. His lips are plump and soft, but dry enough that she doesn’t get all the crumbs off on the first try. “Oops, missed some,” she says.

She watches as he wets his lips with his tongue, then she swipes at them again, this time more deliberately, trying to get every crumb, and maybe trying to savor the feel of his lips on her skin for as long as she can.

“Got it,” she says when his mouth is clean.

They stare at each other for a moment before turning back towards the party. She feels the tequila taking over her body more completely, and decides that must be the reason she loops her arm through his, and lets her hand rest on the top of his forearm. She doodles invisible flowers on his skin with her nails, and they sit in silence, watching her fingers dance, for what feels like eternity.

Finally, in a half-mumble, he says, “I’m getting divorced tomorrow.”

The words take her out of her trance, and her gaze rises to his face. He doesn’t look at her at first, but eventually he gives her a half-smile.

“Oh my god, Blake, I’m so sorry! Do you want to tell me what happened?” She squeezes against him and hugs his arm in hers.

He lets out a humorless chuckle. “Believe it or not, you happened.”

She draws in a breath, and wills her heartbeat to slow down. He smirks at her response, although there’s no smile in his eyes.

“What do you mean?” she breathes.

“I’m kidding. But then again, I’m not. She saw your text message about having a fun night, and well, you can imagine what she thought.”

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! Did you tell her it wasn't like that, I mean, do you want me to call her?”

“No,” he interrupts. “I’m glad it happened. I mean not glad, but it—I’m,” he grunts in frustration, then sighs. “It’s been a long time coming. It wasn’t that text. I mean, it was, because that’s what started the conversation, but we would’ve had the conversation eventually.”

“So it wasn’t just me, then, okay good.”

He laughs unhappily. “No I told her that was nothing and she seemed like she believed me, because ain’t no way a girl like you ever wants a guy like me. That’s just not how it works, and we all know it.”

She stares at him as he stares at the ground. He looks so dejected, and she’s suddenly furious because Miranda must be stupid if she can’t see what Gwen sees. Anger and tequila propel her. “Wait, I don’t know that at all!”

He looks up at that, raises an eyebrow. She continues, words stumbling out of her mouth before her brain can stop them. “That’s so crazy! Do you not see yourself? You’re cute, and tall, and so funny, and smart, and sweet, and charming, and you’re like the king of Nashville...and you’re hot! Of course I’d want you. Who wouldn’t? Anyways, I’m not that special.”

He turns toward her, his long legs knocking into hers. “Not that special? Now who’s not seeing herself? You’re literally the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. And you’re actually normal. You care about people other than yourself. Plus you’re a rockstar. A real one!”

“You’re sweet, but I don’t know."

He growls under his breath. “How can you not know that you’re amazing?” 

She shrugs and tries not to cry, but she can feel wetness in the corners of her eyes. Alcohol mixing with embarrassment burns her cheeks. 

“Gwen,” he says, his voice quiet and serious, "don’t take this the wrong way, but what the fuck is wrong with your husband that he lets you think like this?”

Her stomach flips at his tone and the intensity of his face. Between that and the liquor she’s losing her ability to think. “He’s not really my husband anymore,” she says.

He draws in an audible breath and nods. “Well, he’s a dumbass.” 

“So is she,” Gwen says. 

He smiles at that, a real smile that makes his eyes sparkle and her stomach flip again.

“So she saw my text, and accused you of cheating, and then what? If it’s ok to ask.” 

He looks at her, another half-smile, but this one with a sweet look in his eyes. “That’s why I wanted to come over here and talk. I feel like I can tell you about these things. It feels comfortable talking to you. It’s easy.” He notices the way she’s looking at him and stumbles. “Not easy like you’re easy. Easy like easy to talk to.” He laughs nervously. “Maybe it’s just the beer talking. Speaking of which…”

He stops rambling as he reaches into his bucket, melting ice sloshing as he pulls out two bottles, opens both and passes one to her. 

“No, I know what you mean! Like, I’m so glad you called. I feel like we kind of have a vibe where we like, understand each other, you know? You’re like the only person that I ever feel comfortable around lately. It’s crazy.” 

She gives him a reassuring smile and he returns it with a sigh. “Exactly. It IS crazy! That's pretty much what I was trying to say. We understand each other. But yeah right well, so. Last week was the first time I’d even seen her in like 5 weeks, since Memorial Day weekend. And that was…not good. It hadn't been good for a long time. I mean I couldn't tell you the last time we talked without it ending up in an argument. She wasn't happy, I wasn't happy. But I guess I kinda figured we would work it out eventually. Or we'd just be one of those couples that stayed married and kinda loved each other but led separate lives, and I thought I could live with that." 

The burning in Gwen’s cheeks returns, and she takes a long drink from her beer to keep from crying. "I know exactly how that feels," she says after a minute. 

He watches her for a moment, then continues. "Yeah. Well, I thought it would be okay, but a few months ago I started hearing these rumors."

"Oh no," Gwen says. 

"Heh. Yeah. And you know, we had this thing: what happens on tour, stays on tour. And that was fine with me. She’s always been independent. But there are limits. Lines I'd never cross."

"And she crossed them?" 

"She erased them, then ran a mile past 'em." 

"Ouch." 

"I tried to ignore the rumors...not everyone is the biggest fan of Miranda, so at first I figured it was just gossip, people trying to start shit, but then actual friends started getting in touch with me, and I did some snooping around and well--"

“She cheated,” Gwen says.

“Oh yeah,” he nods.

"With who?" she asks.

"More than one guy. But the long term one was her tour manager." 

The beer mixes with the shots and sets Gwen off. “Wow. Wow. That's such bullshit!" It comes out way louder than intended and Blake smirks, but she doesn’t care. "Why do people think they can just do whatever the fuck they want? So what if they're on tour! Those vows didn't say for better or worse unless you're on tour! Marriage is supposed to be important. It’s supposed to be like, the most important. Forever. And cheating is just...It's so selfish! Like they’re supposed to love you but obviously if they do that then they don’t care about you at all. It’s just. Ugh! Oh my god. She's fucking dumb to take you for granted that way. I would never do that to you." 

She pauses for a moment and watches Blake’s smile get bigger. Her skin is buzzing; her lips are tingling.

"I mean, I would never do that...to anyone. Like, in general. That’s just…it’s so stupid. Why don’t people just respect themselves and remember that they have lives back home. You wouldn’t do that because you’re an amazing person. And I just never…I mean I've never done anything even a little bit naughty on tour. I barely even drink because I need to be in my best shape for stage. Anyway, I just think that’s the worst motto ever. That's all I meant."

She comes out of her rant to find him still grinning at her. She smiles at him and feels herself blush.

"I take it back, he's not just a dumbass, he's the stupidest motherfucker on the planet."

She deflates a little at that comment. From the look on his face she knows it's meant to be a compliment but the wounds are just starting to heal, and they still sting when poked.

She sighs and takes a pull from her bottle. The taste is too sour. "He doesn't think so. He probably thinks he's a genius, the way he could play me like that for such a long time. I always knew he did bad stuff. Serious partying while he was on the road and he just...No it's embarrassing."

She feels a heavy arm fall over her shoulders and pull her in. A firm thumb rubs up and down her shoulder.

"You don't have to tell me all this stuff, Gwen."

The alcohol must be getting to him because his accent is thicker than usual. The way he twangs out her name sounds like music. With his arm around her, and her name on his lips, the scent of him mingling with the smell of their beer, she feels secure for the first time in weeks.

"He got so good at manipulating me. Because he knew I didn't want to get divorced, I wanted to stay a family, so he learned that he could do whatever he wanted. But even with all that it was like he tried to be mean to me. He criticized me for everything. Clothes, makeup, weight"--she ignores Blake's derisive chuckle--"friends, music, parenting…literally everything. Meanwhile he'd just do whatever he wanted. Because he knew I wouldn't leave him."

She pauses for breath and lets Blake guide her a few inches closer to him. She lets the weight of the alcohol in her system win, and drops her head to let it rest against his shoulder, the top of her hair brushing against the stubble along his jaw.

"But then...actually this is kind of crazy, it's actually a lot like you. I started hearing rumors about him cheating, like more than just random girls on tour. I mean that was horrible, obviously, but I heard rumors about people we knew. I didn't know what the hell to believe...and then I found out he’d been sleeping with the kids’ favorite nanny."

"Jesus," Blake says. His breath tickles her hair.

"And I just snapped. That was it. I talked to my family and they basically admitted they'd been waiting for me to leave him for forever. So when he got home from tour like a month later, I told him it was over. But I was so scared oh my god, I had to have my brother stay with me."

“Damn. Well, good for you. Hopefully it’s ok for me to say that. So y’all are split up?”

She nods, her cheek rubbing against the fabric of his shirt. “He moved out…I guess it’s been three months. But it’s so complicated. We still have family dates. He’ll come over to the house for dinner or we’ll like go out for lunch or to the park or whatever. My oldest, Kingston, he’s been really upset. The other two are okay. Apollo is literally a baby and doesn’t know what’s going on, and Zuma, you’d love Zuma. He’s crazy. He lives in his own little world. As long as he has snacks and something to keep his occupied, he’s pretty resilient. But King is more sensitive. And he’s a lot closer to Gavin than the other two, so it’s harder for him. But it’s terrible, too. Because he’s only 9 but he gets it. He’s really smart and he can tell I don’t want his dad around. But he wants his dad around, so it’s like, really messed up. Like yesterday. It was my dad’s birthday. I just wanted to be with my family and try to like get my mind off of things. But it was Gavin’s turn with the kids and he said if the kids were gonna be there then he wanted to be there too. And I didn’t want to upset the boys, so I said fine. And I realized, I’m not really even that angry anymore. I mean, I am. I’m furious because he’s taking my kids away from me and I didn’t do anything wrong. He’s literally punishing me for his own mistakes. But I’m not angry about losing him. I wish he hadn’t fucked up and ruined our family, but I don’t want him back either. At all. I’m disgusted by him. I don’t even remember what I saw in him in the first place. I mostly, like, want him to be gone forever, like just disappear. Does that make me a horrible person?”

She doesn’t realize until she’s stopped for a breath that she’s started crying. Blake squeezes her, holding her against him, and she feels his soft, warm lips press against the top of her head. She sniffles and swipes at her eyes with her finger, trying to spare her makeup from water damage.

After a minute he speaks, his mouth against her hair, “I don’t think you could be a horrible person if you tried. Horrible people usually don’t worry this much about everyone else. You’re putting your kids ahead of your own happiness. And I’m not saying you shouldn’t, but you’re agreeing to spend time with this complete fucking jackass even though it sounds like the last thing you wanna do.”

She nods but doesn’t answer.

“I’ve been thinking about the way you ran up and hugged that big guy with the Beyonce voice. That was so sweet. And I know you didn’t do it for the cameras, you were just really moved. Because you have a big heart. You don’t deserve to be treated this way. Hell no one does, but especially not you, you’re too special. To be honest I kinda wanna rip his fuckin balls off. I can’t believe someone could be married to you and not realize he was the luckiest guy on earth.”

Every inch of her feels electric. Her face splits into a grin but when she lifts her head to look at him, he is staring pointedly at his beer bottle, while his fingers fiddle with the bottle’s label. It’s difficult to tell in the last minutes of twilight, but she thinks he’s blushing. She smiles wider.

After a long drink from his beer, he says, "I know exactly what you're sayin though."

She blames the tequila when she reaches for the hand he still has on her arm. And it's definitely alcohol that links her fingers with his, pulling his arm more fully around her and holding his hand in her lap. 

Eventually he says, "The last thing she said to me was, ‘I’m sad but I’m mostly relieved.’”

Gwen lets out a sigh, but doesn’t respond.

“I left after that, and I drove over to my mama’s and I cried on her shoulder like I was a little baby. I guess that’s not too sexy but it’s the truth.” She squeezes his hand. “And the next day I drank…a lot and I cried again. But then I sobered up and I got on a plane to go play a show where I knew she’d be there, and I realized I didn’t have to pretend everything was great anymore. I could just let her do her show, and I’d do mine, and that would be it. So I called my lawyer, convinced him to let me come over on the 4th of July and sign the papers, and he’s filing them tomorrow. And it’s only been a few days but I know exactly what she was talking about. It’s sad. I never wanted this to happen. Two divorces before I’m 40, that’s not something to be proud of….but she was right though. At the end of the day, it is a relief.”

Gwen takes a drag of her beer, trying to push down the emotion in her throat. She takes her time before answering. “It took me longer, but I know what you mean. I had this epiphany a few weeks ago. I spent such a long time trying to make things better for myself without making any, like, real changes. Nothing worked. It was just the same thing over and over again. But now I feel so much more at peace. I’m still grieving for sure. It’s a tragedy, losing my family like that. But at the same time, I’ve never felt this kind of freedom before. I feel like someone finally unlocked my chains. You know?”

He’s staring at her again. “That's exactly it," he says. "No more lying. No more fighting. It totally sucks, but it also feels pretty good."

"It does," she says.

His thumb has started rubbing circles on the back of her hand. When she looks him in the eye, she is completely entranced. His eyes are so clear, she can see every thought. But she doesn't see sadness in them, or even alcohol. Instead the look she sees sends every nerve in her body reeling. His free hand cups her knee, angling his body toward her. With his arm still wrapped around her, their hands still entwined, he begins to pull her closer to him, leaning in at the same time. When she sees his eyes drop to look at her mouth, she stops breathing. She closes her eyes, bracing her body for impact, and wonders if she's gonna explode.

"OH MY GOD IT IS HER!" A high-pitched voice tears them out of the moment. She drops his hand and pulls back a few inches.

"Dude!" The girl continues, now standing a foot away from them, swaying on her feet. "I heard you were here! Wow you’re GORGEOUS! OMG this is sick! You're Gwen fucking Stefani!"

Gwen laughs, "I know!"

"This shit is bananas!"

"B A N A N A S!" Blake chants, mimicking the girl's cheerful tone.

"Oh my god," the girl says. "This is like, beyond amazing! Sorry to be creepy but can I have a hug? I just really love you! You’re just so cool! Your fashion oh my God.” She stands in front of them with her arms out wide as Gwen tries not to giggle at how weird her life is.

Blake laughs at them. "You better give her her hug," he says.

She stands up and immediately feels the loss of his body's warmth. But although the girl smells like chlorine and surprise shots, she seems genuinely touched by Gwen's hug.

“Thank you so much,” Gwen says.

“Oh my God! No seriously thank you! Do you want to come play flippy cup with us?”

Blake, standing beside them now, laughs loudly at that.

“What’s that?” she asks.

“Oh it’s a really fun game! It’s like a race to see what team can drink beer the fastest. So like, you drink a drink of beer and then you have to flip a cup over and…”

“I think we’re gonna pass,” Blake interrupts her.

As the girl looks between them, realization spreads across her face. She very obviously notices who Blake is, and that he isn’t Gwen’s husband. The girl glances at Gwen’s empty ring finger as her face turns pink.

“Oh, okay! Sure. I’m so sorry. I just got so excited when I heard you were here and…”

“It’s totally fine. Thank you so much, you’re so sweet,” Gwen says. “But I actually think it’s time for me to get going anyway.”

“Okay. It was nice to meet you…both. Bye!”

They watch as she runs back to the crowd and jumps into the arms of a waiting friend, laughing, and from the look on her face, definitely recounting their interaction.

“You really gonna get going?” Blake asks.

She sighs, and closes her eyes. Her body wants her to stay and see what happens. There’s a gorgeous man looking at her like she’s a rainbow, and enough alcohol in her body that she could definitely relax with him. But her brain is telling her she’s crazy, it’s not the right time, that’s not why she came here. But then again why did she come here?

Blake doesn’t wait for her inner turmoil. “Hey, yeah, I need a car please.”

She snaps her eyes open when she realizes what he’s doing. He nods at her with a small smile. He’s doing a terrible job of hiding his disappointment. She speaks over his phone call, “well maybe I don’t have to go right away…”

“Yeah, okay, a half hour is perfect. Thanks.”

He puts his phone back in his pocket and rubs her arm. “Nah, you're probably right. I just, well. Heh."

She smiles at him, unsure what to say, and the smile he returns almost makes her rethink her decision.

"Why don't we go check in with the idiot?"

She laughs at that and smiles over at him when he puts his hand on the small of her back as they walk.

It takes them a few minutes to find Adam and Behati, mingling in amongst a crowd by the pool. She laughs as the boys bicker about nothing for while. As they stand there, Blake hovering against her shoulder, Adam with an arm slung over his wife, she gets a flash of what life could look like for them. This image mixes with the alcohol still in her system and warms her entire body. She doesn’t quite feel in control of her own body, like she’s floating, and without thinking, she leans into Blake for support. Without missing a beat he puts his hand on her hip to steady her. The entire moment feels so natural, she considers cancelling the car service so she can stand here with him all night. She comes back to reality, though, when she notices Bee smirking at her. She shrugs and hopes it’s too dark for anyone to notice her blushing.

“Where the hell were you guys, anyway?” Adam says.

Behati swats at his arm.

“Just over there, talking,” Blake says, pointing behind them. “Not all of us want to party like we’re 22 year old frat boys.”

They all laugh at him. “How much have you had to drink? That’s literally your dream, man,” Adam says.

Blake clears his throat and Gwen notices a tension in his jaw. He glances her way. “Not really.” He’s talking to Adam but he says it to her.

Ignoring Bee’s gaze, she rubs her hand on his chest to calm him down. He pulls her in closer to him with the hand on her hip, so her body rests against his. She lets her hand stay where it is. When his fingers begin massaging the spot where they’re holding her, she reflexively presses herself more firmly to him. The boys keep up the banter, although she’s lost in the feeling Blake’s body hugged so tightly against her and she has no idea what they’re saying. She tries to control her breathing and look as casual as possible, though the way her heart is racing makes it impossible. Bee’s smile has evolved from smirk to full grin, and when Gwen meets her eyes, she can’t help but take in the whole situation. They start laughing at the same time.

Adam stops talking and looks between them. “What?” he says.

"Nothing, babe, don't worry about it."

Adam pouts at her, "I hate secrets."

“There’s no secret,” his wife promises.

Adam narrows his eyes, looking between the two women. When his gaze lingers on Gwen, like maybe he’s finally noticed the way she and Blake are wrapped around each other, Bee distracts him. “Hey babe! Let’s get in the hot tub!”

As if hypnotized, Adam jumps back, snaps his fingers, and points at her with both hands. “Yes! Hot tub! My wife is a genius! You guys coming?”

“No, Gwen has to take off, and I’m going to bed. Early day tomorrow…” Blake says.

Adam stares at him for a moment, then nods solemnly. “Oh right. Okay well if you change your mind come find us. Gwen, thank you so much for coming!”

“Great to see you Gwen,” Bee says, smiling genuinely as she pulls her husband away.

Gwen looks up at Blake, letting her chin rest near his collarbone. He smiles down at her, and they stand there like that, eyes locked, smiling softly at each other for a long moment.

Finally, Blake steps back, though he doesn’t remove his arm from around her waist. “I guess we better go see about your car.”

Reluctant to be rid of his closeness, she doesn’t step away from him, and they make their way through the house with arms secured around each other. 

They remain standing like that, squeezed together, arms snaked around each other’s waists, as they wait for her car. They're both quiet, but there's a peacefulness to it. She feels safe like this, comfortable and secure. Touching him, being close to him, feels natural, as if they've been clinging to each other for a thousand years.

When her ride arrives, Blake hugs her tightly.

"Call me tomorrow if you need to talk, or want a distraction, or...whatever," she says.

"Bet I will." He kisses her cheek, softly but with purpose.

"Okay good." She squeezes him in a hug one more time, then lets him help her into the car.

An hour later, as she's climbing into bed her phone dings. _Just wanna make sure you got home safe_

She smiles and bites her lip as she thinks of the perfect response, trying to ignore the butterflies dancing in her stomach. _That’s cute. I’m just getting into bed._

_Wow. Ok. Thank you for that visual. :)_

_LOL your funny. Seriously tho thanks for inviting me tonight. I had so much fun!!_ She blames the lingering alcohol in her system when she adds two heart kissing emojis.

_It wouldn't have been fun if you weren't there. Sweet dreams, I'll call you tomorrow after everything's done._

Her face hurts from smiling so much but she figures it's worth it. And it's good practice because she can see herself smiling a lot in the near future. She realizes as she lays her head on the pillow, it's the first time she's gone to bed looking forward to anything in months.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5.

Blake's alarm goes off at 5:45 the next morning. In a daze of sleep deprivation and mild hangover his thoughts come disjointed and rapid fire. It's too damn early. Gwen's smile. The lawyer's gonna call soon. Gwen's laugh. It's gonna be a long ass day. Gwen hugging on him. It's too early to call her, she's asleep. He almost kissed her. He's getting divorced today. Why didn't that thought come sooner?

He drags himself out of bed and heads to the kitchen to use Adam's too damn complicated coffee maker. It's coffee. It shouldn't be complicated. After cursing it with every dirty word he can think of, he gives up and puts a pot of water on the stove. He decides he can deal with drinking tea for one day. But of course when he finds the tea, it’s loose leaf. 

Thus, when the lawyer calls at 6:15, he’s rummaging around the kitchen for a tea infuser, grumbling to himself that Adam can never just be normal, hangover growing by the second.

"I just left the clerk's office. Like I told you before, it takes 10 business days and then it'll be done. They shouldn't be needing anything else from you, so unless you have anymore questions for me?"

"That's it?" Blake asks, settling himself on a stool on the island.

"That's it.”

"Well alright. Thanks for callin. And thanks for gettin it done so quick."

"I'll call them back tomorrow and make sure everything looks right, and keep you posted,” he pauses for a moment. “ In the meantime, hang in there, son."

"Alright." Blake hangs up and sets the phone down. Alone in the empty kitchen, he sits perfectly still, appreciating the quiet. 

After a few minutes, he reheats the water and finishes making his tea. Then he calls his mother. "Thank God," she says. "Now that it's done, Blake, I feel like I don't mind tellin' you that I'm glad you did it. She never did deserve you."

He doesn't ask how long she's been holding on to that. Instead he tells her he loves her and promises to call her again later, and has to clear his throat when she tells him she's proud of him.

He calls Miranda next. She doesn't answer. He knows she never checks her voicemail, so he sends her a text: _it's done_.

With chores done, he let’s himself relax. He props his elbows on the countertop of the island, and slumps his shoulders, letting them carry his weight. The bitterness of Behati’s jasmine tea makes him wince, but its steam helps his headache. As he nurses it, he lets his mind wander. He figured he'd feel like he wanted to die when the call came, but he's done all that. He did his crying last week, and the anger came before that. The sadness he’d been expecting this morning is more of a dull feeling. Not quite numbness, but not the devastation he expected. He’s not glad it happened, but he is glad it’s over with. He’s calm now. Time to put the past behind him. 

It's not even 7 AM yet, and if he had any game at all he'd wait at least until the afternoon, but he's not even sure what he's trying to accomplish. So he bites the bullet and texts Gwen: _nothing like filing for divorce to get your Monday going_.

 _How does it feel?_ Her response is immediate. He tries to convince himself there’s just no way she got up early to wait for him. That’s only wishful thinking. Still, his heart immediately beats faster while he tries to think of an honest response that isn't going to scare her off. But what the hell, if anyone will get it, it'll be her. 

_Better than I thought it would._

_Are you a breakfast person?_

Her response makes him grin like an idiot and he tries to keep himself calm. _Have you seen me? Of course I like breakfast. Most important meal of the day. Why?_

_I was thinking about making pancakes, but it feels weird to make them for just myself._

_Well if you're looking for a pancake partner, you found your guy._

_Oh good! I don't have any syrup though, so if your a syrup guy you need to bring some :)_

An hour later he’s standing at the front step of her Beverly Hills mansion. It’s overwhelming. He's seen a lot of nice houses in LA. His bosses at The Voice have done pretty well for themselves. But this place looks like a museum. White and sleek and modern. The epitome of Hollywood glamour and everything he’s not. He starts to think maybe this isn’t a good idea.

Until she answers the door, and he forgets everything. "Hi!" she says, flashing him a smile that nearly blinds him.

She's wearing ratty jeans and an old muscle tee that reads "RAD" across the chest. Her hair is thrown up in a messy bun, and her face is fresh, with just enough makeup to let him know she got ready for him. 

This must be what she looks like in her normal life, he realizes, and "Wow." She makes a face. "It uh...it's not normal to look this pretty before 8am,” he adds.

She flashes that smile again. "You're crazy." She steps aside to let him through. "Come on in."

She leads him through a maze of black and white, decorated with modern art and bright furniture that he'd bet you couldn't find anywhere in Oklahoma. As he stares at a black marble sculpture of a rhinoceros just past the foyer, he wonders aloud, "Has this place ever been in a magazine?"

She laughs. "You're funny."

“My place in Nashville was featured in something or other and that was just a house. This place is...incredible.”

She looks at him and chuckles as she leads him further into the place. The deeper they get the more homey it feels, with toys piled in a corner and last night's shoes stranded by the sofa.

Finally, they reach their destination, and before he can help himself, he laughs. Scattered across a huge kitchen island are three different cookbooks, at least double the ingredients she'll need for pancakes, a whole stack of mixing bowls and utensils, and a streak of white powder leading a trail towards the flour bag.

"Are we making pancakes or opening up a whole bakery?"

She giggles and swats at his arm. "Okay so mayyybeee I'm not like, the greatest cook on earth. I usually use that box stuff but I don’t have any. But I want pancakes and like, no one is gonna make them for me if I don't do it myself, you know what I'm saying? Not today, anyway."

He tries, and fails, to act serious. "Did you invite me over here so I'd make you pancakes?"

She perks up. "No! ...But, do you know how to make them?"

"Yeah I know how to make pancakes. They're real easy."

She rolls her eyes. It's damn cute.

"You want me to teach you?" He offers.

She smiles big at that, in a way that puts breakfast completely out of his mind. He has to clear his throat. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

He walks around her to the side of the island with the ingredients. He surveys the mess then casts aside anything extra. With a smirk at her he pushes away the cookbooks as well. "We won’t be needing these."

She meets his eye and returns his smirk, then rounding the island, she slides up next to him, invading his personal space. She smells a little bit sweet and a little bit like flowers. It's hard not to bend over and put his face in her neck to breathe her in.

"So...what's first?" She asks.

"First, we start with dry stuff. Do you know what I mean when I say that? You've made cookies before, right?”

"Of course I've made cookies! I have 3 kids!"

He laughs at her sincerity. "I know. You brought some to the show last year."

"Yeah! You're right. I just wanted to say thank you to everybody. Total mom move, I know. Good memory!"

He laughs again. "Well no one else around there ever brought us cookies, so it was memorable."

She gives him this soft, shy smile, like hearing a compliment is a surprise. He starts to put an arm around her but stops himself. She bumps him with her shoulder, letting her body rest there against him. “Okay so dry stuff…” she says.

“Yeah. Dry stuff.”

“Flour?” she asks, pulling the bag toward them.

“Mhmm. We need a cup of that.”

“Oh, and a bowl.”

“Right. That’ll help.” The bowls are on the other side of her. He could just reach over her to grab the one he needs, or let her pull one over. But that occur to him until he’s already stepped up behind her, locking her in between his body and the island as he braces one arm by her side, holding onto the countertop, and leans in to find the bowl they’ll need with the other hand. The move, standing behind her, invading her space, is completely unnecessary and he’s not even sure if it’s welcome. He’s only left a couple of inches between them, but she doesn’t tense up like he half-expects her to. Instead she places her left hand next to his, holding onto the island, greets his other hand where it drags the bowl across the marble, and takes the step back so that she’s resting against him.

He tries not to panic. She seems so calm, like this is totally normal: cuddling together and making breakfast, even though they've never kissed, never been on an actual date. He's frozen, his hand still on the bowl, so she works around him, letting her wrist, then her ribs, brush against his arm as she reaches for the measuring cups. As she bends forward, her ass brushes against his thigh, and reflexively he moves in closer, so that there's no way for her to move out from between him and the workspace. He thinks he hears her breath catch, but it could just be his own.

She leans forward again, and again her ass bumps up against his thigh. This time, she moves slowly reaching for a spatula, bending more deeply than she needs to, so her curve creeps closer and closer to where he wants it. His body takes over for his brain then, and before he knows it his hands are on her hips and he's pulling her back against him. This time he's sure he hears her breath catch, and he feels her melt into him.

"It was one cup, flour, right?" Her voice is deeper, scratchier than usual. He wants to hear more of it. He tries to ignore the vision in his brain of them waking up together, her murmured good morning with that voice, and after some time in bed, his kisses on her neck while she measures out the flour in some nightgown that's barely there.

"Right?" She repeats, tilting her head back to look at him.

"Yeah," he responds quickly, but it's his turn for the deeper voice, and she lets him see her smirk before she gets back to work.

In her bare feet, he's nearly a foot taller than her, so he watches from over her head as she measures out the cup and drops it in the bowl. They stay like that, him holding her against his body while his fingers press into the thin flesh of her hips, as he calls out ingredients and she measures them and adds them to the mix.

“How do you have all this memorized?” she asks when the dry ingredients are complete.

“Oh, um...practice,” he says. A flash of someone a little shorter, a little thicker in the hips, standing in a smaller, darker kitchen, hits him behind the eyes and blinds him for a moment. It’s been a while since he last thought about the good times in his marriage. A moment of mourning flows over him like a wave. The force of it dries his throat and makes his fingers go slack. His arms drop back to his sides.

She turns to him, brushing against his chest in the process, and tilts her head up to try and meet his eye. She studies him for a long moment. He can tell by looking at her she understands. “Should we have tried waffles instead?” She asks. 

She almost keeps a straight face, but doesn’t quite manage, and he’s so grateful for her self-satisfied giggle, he reaches for her. His arms go over her shoulders and envelop her. She wraps her arms around his middle immediately, locking him to her by crossing her arms around his back. They don’t say a word as they cling to each other. He focuses on the rhythm of her hands rubbing circles along his sides. Standing silently in her kitchen, letting himself be held by her, he feels protected for the first time in ages. 

Eventually she pulls back, looking up at him again. “You okay?” her tone is soft and serious. 

He smiles as he nods, locking his eyes with hers. “I’m good.” 

“Are you sure?”

His smile grows as he nods again. He feels like a kid. 

“So what’s next? Like eggs or something?” she asks. 

They both laugh.

“There are eggs involved, yeah.”

As he steps back up to the island, she keeps one arm wrapped around his waist, standing close to him while she watches him gather the last three ingredients. They work together to finish, Gwen melting the butter while Blake whisks the eggs and milk. She seems happy to watch him, and he likes the audience, so he handles the rest of the process, holding the bowl in the crook of his arm and whisking the whole thing together. He catches her staring at his hand using the whisk, and she doesn’t even look embarrassed when she meets his eye.

"We're bout ready to heat it up," he says.

She smiles, shaking her head as she steps around him towards the cupboards. She rummages around, and he allows himself to enjoy the view as she bends to rummage through the lower drawers and cabinets.

She looks at him over her shoulder. "I know I have one of those like electric stove things you cook them on."

"A griddle?"

She blinks at him. "Oh! Yeah. A griddle. I think we have one. I was sure, actually."

He sets the batter on the island and joins her in rummaging through cabinets.

Ten minutes later, she's found a pile of things she wants to throw out, but no griddle. "It's not here. I know we used to have one. I guess it must be...ugh. What the hell does he need a griddle for?"

"It's no big deal, we can just use a frying pan. Cast iron if you got it."

She looks a little surprised, then a little embarrassed. "Ok, I know where those are."

She pulls a large frying pan from under the island, and walks it to the stove.

"Okay, here we go."

She stands beside him, leaning over his arm to see the stove, as he greases the skillet and drops down the first two globs of batter.

As he works on frying the pancakes, she tells a story about loving Disneyland as a kid, and remembering that her mom used to make Mickey Mouse ear pancakes. "I've always wondered how she did that," Gwen says. "How did she flip them without the ears falling off? I should call her and ask....not right now, I mean later, obviously."

“The regular circle ones is as far as I go. Unless you want chocolate chips. Do you? Want chocolate chips?”

“I like the regular circle ones.” She gives him a big smile, and he returns it. They watch each other for a minute until she sniffs and turns her attention to breakfast. “You might want to like, flip those.”

**

When the cooking is done and they each have a short stack she leads him to a black kitchen table on the other side of the room. It looks lifted straight out of a trendy Hollywood restaurant. She motions for him to climb into the long booth, and she follows, sliding up next to him, leaving just enough room so he’ll be able to use his arms while they’re eating.

“I’m so excited!” she says. With her fingers, she rips off a piece of the top pancake on her plate and pops it into her mouth. “Mmm!” He watches as she chews and then repeats the process, tearing off a second piece.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“What do you mean? I’m eating pancakes. We make really rad pancakes, by the way!”

“Uh huh.”

She scrunches her nose at him as she pops another piece in her mouth.

“But you’re eating ‘em just like that? Nothin’ on them? Plain pancakes. That you eat with your hands.”

“Well, yeah! I like them this way. What’s wrong with that?”

He chuckles. “I mean…nothing. Nothing is wrong with it, it’s just most people use a fork. But then again most people put stuff on top of ‘em so they’re too messy to eat your way.”

“Oh! Well, I don’t know. I like to eat them like this! Why is that so weird? It’s just like a donut except with no hole!”

He laughs at that. A loud belly laugh that comes out almost like a bark. She looks startled for a minute but then joins in with his laughing.

“A donut with no hole,” he repeats. “That’s cute. Wrong, but cute.”

She drops her head and smiles at her lap. He’s not sure what to say, so he turns back to his plate, and almost feels lame for eating his pancakes with butter and syrup and utensils. But while his hands are busy, she scoots the remaining few inches towards him, so their legs are pressed together, and any lurking awkwardness that was threatening him vanishes.

After a minute or two of easy silence, she asks, “So, how did everything go this morning, for real? Do you want to like, talk about it?”

He sets his fork down and wipes his mouth with the back of his thumb. “I don’t know. Not that much to say. It sucks. I wish it didn’t happen. But then again…I’m glad it did at the same time. I wish she hadn’t cheated, I wish things could’ve worked out the way I always thought they would. Not even 40 years old and I already have two ex-wives. That’s…depressing as hell, if I’m honest. But I’m not the same person I was when we met, and I get that now. We want different things, her and I. And I value qualities now that she just doesn’t really have. When we met, we were young, and it was so exciting and I was all caught up in how much I wanted to be with her. I never really thought about what it would be like once we were together. I don’t know. I’m not makin’ sense.”

“You are, actually,” she says. “I know literally exactly what you mean. Like you want something so bad but then when you get it it’s like maybe not what you expected, but it’s too late by then. That’s what happened to me, pretty much.”

She slumps a bit in her seat, and he puts an arm around her and pulls her against him so she’s leaning on him with her head on his shoulder. He rubs his hand up and down her arm and feels the weight of her chest against him. She picks at a pancake with her fingers for a moment, before letting out a long sigh and letting her hand drop to his leg.

“This is so dumb. I’m supposed to be cheering you up right now! Instead I’m just making it worse.”

“Trust me, no you’re not.” He pulls her in tighter against him and increases his grip on her arm.

“Are you sure?” she asks, turning her head so her chin rests on his shoulder. 

When their eyes lock, a dozen thoughts fly through his brain. He could tell her that the last 24 hours were better than the last 24 days before that, all because she was with him. Or that the time he spends with her is the only time he’s not obsessing over how badly his life got fucked up. When he’s with her, he hardly remembers those problems exist. And he could tell her that he literally woke up thinking about her this morning, and not for the first time.

She’s still staring him right in the eye. “Blake?” she says.

“Trust me, just bein’ here, I’m already better. You are definitely not making it worse.”

She smiles at that, and neither of them have so much as blinked to break the eye contact. She turns in her seat so that her body is facing him, and he lets his hand travel from its safe spot on her arm, down her side until it rests, wrapped around her small waist. She raises her arm from his leg and props it along the back of the bench, letting her hand cup the back of his head. With the hand on her waist, he begins to move her in closer until her body is flush against him. His entire body is coiled and he’s not sure he’s still breathing as he continues moving closer towards her. When she pulls in a sharp breath he can feel it as much as hear it.

And then her phone rings. She exhales, loudly, with a groan, and drops her forehead against his neck. “I’m sorry,” she says as she pulls away from him. “That’s my nanny’s ringtone. She normally doesn’t call when the kids are with their dad. I need to get it.”

He watches as she makes it to the kitchen island to grab her phone in a flash, and just as quickly returns to her spot next to him as she answers. “Hello?”

“Oh!” She shoots him an apologetic look. “Zuma? Zumie baby, calm down. What’s wrong?” She makes a choking noise in her throat. Tentatively he places a hand on her shoulder. “Well, Zuma, I miss you too honey but it’s your dad’s turn to be with you.” She glances at Blake with wet eyes, and pulls the phone away slightly to save her ear from the sound of the sobbing child. He can hear the kid ranting from half a foot away.

As the boy continues her face grows darker and darker. He’s never seen her like this, and his grip on her shoulder tightens as the lines on her face crease. “Zuma, baby, please, take a deep breath and tell mama exactly what happened…did you say daddy isn’t there with you? Do you know where he is?

She runs her free hand through her hair and shoots daggers at Blake. He’d feel almost sorry for Gavin, except he’s sure the douchebag deserves it.

“Okay, okay, it’s okay, baby. You can come home. Can I talk to Nelly please?”

She switches the phone to her other ear, and squeezes Blake’s leg with her free hand. “Hi,” she says into the phone. “So where is he? ...Are you fucking kidding me? God! I cannot fucking believe him! …Okay, I told Zuma he could come home. I want you all to come home. If he’s not gonna even be there on the days that he gets them then what’s the fucking point? Yes...okay. See you soon.”

She throws her phone on the table and holds her hands up to frame her face. “Oh my god!” she exclaims.

“What, uh…do you want, um...is everything okay?”

She looks at him with big, wet, wild eyes. “I didn’t even know it was possible to hate someone this much, oh my god.” She turns toward him, and raises herself to sit on her knees. “That fucking asshole went out last night. While my kids were in his house, in his care, he went out, to a club or something. I don’t know where because he just sent the nanny a text at 10pm saying ‘going out, be home late.’ And of course he didn’t come home at all. At least when I stayed out after work with you last week I made sure to be home before they would notice. But not him. No. The kids woke up, ready for their normal kid’s summer day with their dad, but their dad is nowhere to be found. He’s probably hungover in like, some club rat’s nasty apartment right now. Meanwhile my children are hungry and restless and they don’t even want to be there in the first place, and they’re scared because they woke up and their dad was gone. I’m expected to split custody 50/50 with this asshole? In what world is that fair? This system is so screwed up.”

She’s starting to cry, and her cheeks are red with rage. He puts a hand on her leg and rubs up and down, trying to be comforting. 

“This isn’t the life I wanted for my kids. I wanted them to have parents who loved each other and were committed to each other. But that was impossible since he hasn’t been committed a day in his life, and I know I used to love him but like, I can barely even remember that anymore.”

He has to look away at that, because the feeling is all too familiar. She grabs his wrist. Her fingers are cold. “Oh my god, Blake, I’m sorry! I just wanted to hang out with you and like, take your mind off of things and have fun today, and now it’s ruined.” She raises a hand to his cheek and turns his face to hers. “I’m really sorry.”

He gives her a small smile and takes her hand where it rests on his face. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about. I really appreciate you inviting me over. I had a great time. Honestly, you’re about the only person I feel good around these days. I mean it.”

She pouts at that. “I wish you could stay longer.” She keeps hold of his hand as she slides down the bench and stands up. “But after the morning they’ve had, can you even imagine if they came home to find mommy on a date in the kitchen?”

He stands up next to her and doesn’t let go of her hand. “Oh, we’re on a date, huh?”

He laughs as she stammers. “I mean…you know what I mean! You’re crazy.” She rolls her eyes, but the smile she gives him is overwhelming.

He pulls her into a hug, which she returns easily. Her arms go around his neck, and his wrap low on her waist. They stand there like that for a while, but not nearly long enough in Blake’s opinion. She pulls back and tickles the hair on his neck.

“Can I help you clean up while I wait for my ride?” he asks.

The offer gets him another smile, and another tight hug, before she takes his hand and leads him to the mess in the kitchen.

**

A few hours later, he’s sitting on Adam’s patio, lost in a myriad of confusing thoughts, when a message dings.

_Hope your doing okay. Boys go to bed at 9. I’m free after that if you want to talk._

_I’ll call you at 9:01._

_Haha! Your so cute._

_Thanks for the pancakes. Don’t know if it was a date but it was the best morning I’ve had in a long time._

_Me too. We can talk about that date thing at 9:01. <3 _

A few feet away, Behati and her friends are having a conversation about swimsuit fashion. There was a time, not even long ago, when drinking a cocktail and listening to a bunch of models talk about their bikinis would’ve been an ideal afternoon, but he really doesn’t care about any of that right now. His fingers still smell a little like syrup, and he can see Gwen's smile shining like a light when he closes his eyes. His thoughts skip back and forth between a piece of paper that he never wanted to sign again, and a messy, glamorous kitchen he can't wait to get back to.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6.

A six am call time has never felt as early as it does the next day. Danilo and Gregory tease her that she’s acting like she had a late night. She doesn’t tell them they’re right, that she was on the phone with Blake until after midnight. She still can’t believe how much they have in common considering they couldn’t be from more different places. She would’ve talked to him even longer, but when she started yawning he made her hang up and get some sleep. Then she was awake thinking about him for at least another hour.

At eight she heads to a coaches meeting on the couches. He’s the only one there, and his eyes go wide when he sees her. “Wow,” he says.

“What?”

He chuckles, “Uh nothing, I just, heh…I like that outfit.”

She feels her cheeks get warm as she thanks him. She had been a little self-conscious exposing her midriff on TV, but the rainbow sequined houndstooth was too amazing to pass up, so she decided to go for it. Knowing it had the right effect on Blake is the best kind of confidence booster. He returns her smile brightly as he pats the seat next to him. She makes sure to keep a professional distance when she sits, even as she takes a moment to run a finger along his crossed leg as she passes him. He turns slightly toward her and asks, "How you doin today, Gwen? Have a good weekend?"

She wants to laugh. He reminds her of a cartoon character the way he's trying to play it cool and avoid suspicion. She plays along. "It started out not that great but ended up being super fun!"

"Oh yeah? Anything in particular that was fun about it?" He plays with the hem of his jeans and completely fails at keeping the giggle out of his voice.

"Oh well this really cute--"

"UGH it's so fucking early! Good God!" Gwen's cushion bounces as Adam plops down next to her, dramatically falling into the corner of the couch. 

Blake rolls his eyes at her and she laughs. Adam looks over at them. "What?"

"Good morning to you too," Blake laughs.

"Whatever. Hey Gwen." Adam burrows himself deeper into the couch, letting his legs flop into Gwen's personal space. She scoots closer to Blake, a little closer than necessary, probably. Blake shoots her a conspiratorial smile.

Everyone else: Pharrell, the crew, Carson and the rest of the producers, and Paul the music director join them shortly.

"Okay so before the audience gets here we're gonna do a run through of today's performance. Here's how it's gonna go. We start with Gwen doing 'Neon Light'-"

"You're doin' my song?" Blake turns to her.

She feels her cheeks get hot again. "Yeah! I love that song! And it felt, like, you know, appropriate. You know what I'm saying?"

He stares at her with his mouth open. "Yeah but Adam and Pharrell are way more your-"

"Blake, focus," Carson says.

Paul continues, "Right so we'll start with Gwen doing neon light, then move into Blake doing 'Don't Speak'."

"Wait! You're doing don't speak? Seriously?"

"Yeah! You know I love it. I can't believe of all those songs, we both picked-"

"Blake!" Carson interjects. His tone gives Gwen flashbacks to junior high, sitting in the back of class, being scolded by her teachers for talking instead of paying attention. And just like she would've back then, she giggles.

Paul finishes his overview and then the show's director steps up to go over the performance blocking. She and Blake will be together at the side of the stage during Pharrell and half of Adam's songs. Beside her she can actually feel Blake's nervous energy. His leg is bouncing up and down at warp speed, and his fingers are fidgeting, playing with the hem of his shirt.

When she nudges his tapping foot with her toe, he stills for a moment, meeting her eyes with a secretive smile. The briefing lasts a few more minutes, during which she feels him glancing at her every few seconds. When they adjourn and they’re instructed to head to the stage, Blake stands quickly and reaches out to help her up. Glancing around to make sure no one is paying any attention to them, she takes the offered hand, instantly warming at the feeling of his touch. They linger together waiting until they’re the last ones in the parade of people lined up for rides to the stage building

“You ready for this?” he asks.

“Yeah! It’s gonna be fun! You?”

“Oh yeah. I always like these coaches’ performances. I have a real good feeling about this one especially.” He bumps against her with his arm and smirks.

“I can’t believe you’re singing my song!”

“I can’t believe you even _know_ my song,” Blake chuckles.

“What do you mean? You sang it on Jimmy Fallon that time we were on it together, remember?”

“Oh yeah that’s right! I guess I figured you turned it off after your segment was done.”

She doesn’t get a chance to respond before they’re suddenly being pulled in opposite directions by a couple of frazzled producers.

**

It’s her turn to perform first. She follows along as the director shows her the marks for the cameras, and then she’s up. It’s weird, she has no problem performing a show in front of 20,000 people, but here on this little soundstage, singing alone on stage in front of just her coworkers and friends, a nervousness creeps into her stomach as she takes her first mark. As she raises the mic to begin, she’s interrupted because something is calibrated wrong somewhere backstage. She stands there awkwardly under the lights, silently scolding herself because she’s been a professional singer for a million years, this shouldn’t be any different. It’s only rehearsal, she reminds herself. She decides it must be because she’s tired.

An assistant director announces through that they’re ready to start playing, and in her earpiece she hears the first bars of her intro. As she’s about to sing her first words she hears a loud, distinctively southern, “Yeah!! C’mon Gwen!” from just offstage. The first two notes are lost to a laugh, but the rest of the run through is smooth and nerve-free. 

When she’s finished, an assistant points to where Blake and the others are standing at the side of the stage, and directs her to go join them. Blake grins at her and bends forward with his arms stretched out pretending to bow down to her. His cuteness draws her in like a magnet, and she finishes the last few steps in a skip, reaching her arms out to embrace him. As she wraps her arms around his shoulders, she lets herself fall into him. He returns the hug, leaning into it so he’s sort of cradling her with his chin on her shoulder. It only lasts a moment though before he stands up straight and takes the mic from her, ready for his own sound check. “Feeling friendly, huh?” he says under his breath as he passes her. He looks over his shoulder and smiles at her while he strides up to his mark.

She doesn’t have time to be embarrassed though, because Pharrell and Adam scoot closer to her. Adam is trying to give Pharrell advice on how to tackle the high notes in “Sugar”, and Pharrell is pretending to listen. She laughs at them and tries to listen to Blake’s performance, but Adam gives up on keeping Pharrell’s attention and turns to her instead, telling her all about the time he saw the Tragic Kingdom Tour in Anaheim, his fourth No Doubt show. He’s being sweet, so she tries to focus on him, reminding herself she’ll hear Blake’s performance again in an hour. 

When Blake is finished, he's directed to rejoin Gwen, as the other two are moved to their marks. She greets him with applause and puts an arm out for a side hug. When he squeezes her against his side she feels warm.

"So? What did you think?"

"Oh. Just now? Um, well, you sounded great!"

He raises an eyebrow.

"Well, what I heard sounded so rad. Adam was talking through most of it though. I can't wait to hear the whole thing later!"

She gives him what she hopes is her most endearing smile, and it seems like it works. "Typical. Man, he's a great friend, but sometimes I just wanna take his batteries out."

She laughs and a nervous looking assistant scurries up and in a whisper asks them to be quiet. That makes them both laugh again, even as they apologize.

After rehearsal is finished, they break to give the crew time to make adjustments and let the audience file in. Gwen and the other coaches huddle backstage. As she heads to the craft services table, Blake follows. She yawns dramatically, stepping up to the beverage cart. "Wooh, I need some coffee!"

"Why? Were you up late?" Blake smirks.

She's about to play along when Adam joins them. Gwen prepares her own coffee then offers them some.

"Nah. Blake can't have any this late in the day ‘cuz he'd end up spending half an hour on the toilet and getting the whole show behind schedule."

As Adam bounces off to the fruit tray, he misses the death glare Blake shoots him. Gwen tries to choke down her laugh, but fails.

"I hate him," Blake mutters. Then louder, "I hate you, douche bag!"

"Love you too, asswipe!" Adam calls back.

They spend the rest of the break sitting backstage, everyone playing on their phones. She can feel Blake glancing at her every minute, and a few times she catches his eye. The grin he gives her when their eyes meet causes a twinge in her stomach she hasn't felt since high school. When she gets up for some water, he follows. He stands close to her as she operates the water jug. So close she glances over her shoulder to make sure no one is looking.

"Are you thirsty, Cowboy?"

"Ah yeah. Parched."

"You need some water then."

"Well, then, water me."

She pours him a cup and as he drinks it, he locks eyes with her. When he looks at her like that, it feels like an electric current is passing through their faces. An assistant comes in and tells them all to take their places. Gwen picks up her cup and puckers her lips to sip on its straw, without breaking eye contact. The energy current flickers as his gaze moves lower.

"Ready?" She asks.

"You could say that," he mutters.

She flashes him a smile, and adds an extra sway to her hips as she walks out in front of him.

For the audience runs, they each perform their own song 3 times. Even through the cheering crowd and the bright lights, she can feel his eyes on her the entire time. But rather than making her nervous, she feels empowered. If he wants to watch her, she’ll give him something to watch. When she’s finished the crowd cheers, and Blake applauds her with a smile as he passes her on the way to take his mark.

He starts singing as she stands at the side of the stage. His first run through, the vocal is beautiful. Still reeling from the excitement of her own performance, she dances and sings along, throwing her arm in the air and enjoying the music. His voice sounds so smooth and soulful, she almost forgets he’s singing her words. As the song progresses, she notices that his movements seem to get heavier. His vocal becomes more passionate, and it’s obvious in his tone that he’s not just going for powerful dynamics. She looks up to the screen behind him and sees it in his face. The story of the song has hit him, and reminded him of the last week. The second round builds off the intensity of the first. She can see his pain in the way he carries his shoulders, and in a crease on his brow she doesn't recognize. He’s feeling every word he sings, and she and the audience are feeling them right along with him. There’s a sadness in his eyes she wants to heal, a scratchiness to his tone she wants to soothe. She stares at him as he sings, hoping she can use her gaze to calm him. He finally looks towards her as he finishes the second run and returns to his starting mark. When their eyes meet, she gives him the most encouraging smile she can muster and immediately his shoulders straighten a bit. The third run is more upbeat. His voice is emotional without being overwhelming. It's one of the best versions of 'Don’t Speak' she's ever heard. The crowd agrees as they erupt in cheers.

He joins her side stage with a smile that’s missing some of its earlier brightness.

"That was great," she whispers.

His smile grows as he steps back to the direction marker tape just behind her shoulder.

The crowd's momentum continues as Pharrell takes the stage. He sounds amazing. He's so cute and cool, and he knows how to get an audience going. She dances along, infected by such a great crowd and Pharrell's performance. She can feel Blake hovering behind her on his mark. Somehow he's radiating warmth even from a foot away. She glances back at him but he doesn't look at her. He's swaying to the music a little but he looks distracted. His smile from a few minutes before has disappeared. Hoping to encourage him and maybe cheer him up, she starts dancing more. She flirts with the crowd and waves at P, and hopes that the good time she's having will rub off on Blake. By Pharrell's third round, she's totally feeling it. She grinds her hips back into the air, throws her arms out, and lets loose. It's exciting, dancing on stage, with a crowd cheering for one of her favorite artists and, she admits to herself, in front of someone whose attention she’s been craving.

The adrenaline lasts through Adam's performance of 'Get Lucky' and the group sing. She plays it up for the camera and the crowd, making sure the energy level is high. The guys all seem to be having fun too. She hasn't felt this free in a long time.

Afterwards they all hug and laugh as they take in the raving applause of the audience. Blake looks over at her and they lock eyes with matching grins.

As they exit the stage, he pulls her aside, hovering over her with raised eyebrows.

"Are you trying to kill me?" His tone is low but intense. She shifts her legs as she stands under him.

"What?"

"You're trying to kill me, right? Put me out of my misery? That's the only reason I can think of for why you'd be dancing like that in front of me, in public when you know I can't touch you."

She freezes. She tries to think of a cheeky comeback but all she can do is smile. "You wanted to touch me?"

"Pretty much every minute since we met, yeah. But especially this morning."

**

His words ring in her ears for the rest of the day. All afternoon she can feel his eyes on her, and getting his attention becomes a game she plays with herself. 

One of the first contestants of the day is a really good soul singer. Blake can't believe he's white, which is so cute. She checks to make sure Blake is paying attention then bounces out of her chair and runs up to the stage, to convince the contestant she's more powerful because she's the only female coach. She knows it always gets Blake's attention when she gets up out of her chair, and sure enough when she turns around his eyes are glued to her, his mouth in a smirk.

An hour later, she and Pharrell both turn for a sweet girl singing a Carole King song. Gwen and Pharrell never fight, it would be like fighting with Gandhi. Adam teases them over how innocent they are when they go up against each other, and Pharrell invites her to get up and work together to talk to the girl. As she stands there on the steps of the stage, she can feel Blake’s eyes on her from across the room. She turns on the charm, trying to win the girl but also trying to hold Blake’s attention. Eventually Adam calls out that it’s time to return to their seats, and when Madi chooses Pharrell, Gwen slumps in her seat dramatically. She continues to pout even as Adam and Pharrell move on to taking a break, but Blake stays in his seat and calls to her. “I was rootin’ for ya, buddy,” he says, “I thought you had her.”

He walks up to her chair and hovers over her. Her feet are up on the tabletop, and he gets so close her that her shoes push into the tops of his legs. “I don’t know how anybody can talk to you and not choose you,” he says. His voice is soft, and thoughtful, like this is really something he wonders about, not just a line to make her smile. She feels her face get warm but she forces herself to maintain eye contact. He has a bashful little look on his face that makes her grin.

"It's not fair. It's so hard competing against all these cute boys." She tries to pout at him but it ends up more like a smirk.

"Cute, huh? Does that include me too?"

"Sometimes," she tries in vain to keep the giggle out of her voice. "When you're not being mean."

He puts a hand to his chest. "When have I EVER been mean to you?"

"When you steal my artists! I'm still mad about the country mafia!"

He laughs and holds his arms out in surrender. "Okay you got me. And you know what? I'd like to tell ya I won't do it again, but I hate to make promises I know I won't keep..."

She drops her jaw in pretend shock and pushes him with her foot. He stumbles back a step and they grin at each other. But then he shifts his weight, drawing her gaze to his hips, and she realizes how intimate they must have looked with her feet resting against him like that, her toes right below the waistband of his jeans.

The air stills around them, energy locking her eyes to his. Neither is speaking. Maybe neither is breathing. Eventually he smirks and shakes his head, approaching her again.

"So," he starts.

They're interrupted by Gregory, who needs to reapply her powder. 

Blake looks a little lost as he wanders away from her chair. He goes offstage for a few minutes, but when he sits back down he looks over at her. They smile at each other and hold eye contact until Adam and Pharrell return to set.

***

The rest of the afternoon goes on like that. It seems like whenever anything happens she finds herself looking to see how Blake reacts. If someone sounds really good, or a lyric strikes her, or Adam says something particularly ridiculous, she looks to Blake. And usually he's already looking to meet her eyes. The connection feels magnetic. It makes her heart race.

At the end of the day, they share a ride back to the compound, and he walks her to her trailer. She lets herself walk close enough to brush against his sleeve, wishing she could take his hand.

"Today was fun!" She says as they get to her door.

"Yeah, it was," he says. "I swear it's crazy how much more fun this place is when you're around."

She smiles.

"So, uh, I don't know what you're doing right now, but do you want to get a drink? Or are you hungry? We could grab a bite..."

She cringes before she can stop herself. 

"Oh," he says.

She grabs his arm. "I'd love to, seriously. Believe me, I want to _so_ bad. It's just that Gavin's coming over for dinner with the kids, and my parents, and my brother and his family are coming too. I think they might be worried I'll, like, kill Gavin if I'm not supervised. Actually, they might be right...so anyways I can't tonight. But I'd love a rain check? Tomorrow maybe?"

He shrugs. "Yeah, rain check, okay sure."

"Trust me I'd _so_ much rather hang out with you."

He forces a chuckle. "No I get it. You go be with your family."

"Can I call you later?" She asks.

He smiles a little. "Sure, that'd be great."

She moves in to hug him but stops herself when she remembers there's a couple dozen coworkers around. "Okay well I'll just, like, talk to you later then. Night!"

"Night, Gwen."

She watches him walk away, a little less confident than he looked this morning. A wave of sadness runs through her. The time she spends with Blake is when she feels happiest. The way he makes her laugh is a perfect distraction from all the trauma she feels when she gets back to the reality of her situation. A cheating, lying, promise-breaking self-obsessed husband who ruined her family and takes away her time with her babies. She tries to imagine Blake treating someone the way Gavin treated her all those years. Cute, funny, self-deprecating Blake with his strong arms and beautiful face, she can't imagine him hurting anyone on earth, let alone someone he’s supposed to love.

They've gotten so close, and almost crossed that line more than once now, and she's spent so much time the last few days thinking about what it feels like to be held by him, his friendship and confidence when she shares her most intimate thoughts, and his eyes on her like she's the most beautiful jewel. It's enough to make her walk out the trailer and go after him. But she stops herself. She needs to deal with reality before she can start dreaming about what comes next.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7.

 

He wakes up with a headache. It’s a hangover, not from alcohol this time, but from the intensity of the last week. It's all come crashing down on him all at once. Finally facing reality and ending his marriage. Then falling for someone new. Then realizing she might not be quite as ready to move on as he is, all in the space of a few days. It’s too much. It would’ve been too much if it happened over a whole summer, but Wednesday to Tuesday is insane. The entire thing feels like a lucid dream.

He thinks about Gwen, of course, because she’s about the only thing he’s thought of since the night of the pool party. He gave her until midnight to call before he gave up, feeling like an idiot for literally waiting by the phone for her. She was having dinner with her ex— not even her ex, really. He’s still her husband, and she was having dinner with him and their family. Blake tries to remind himself he has no right to feel jealous. He’s not her boyfriend, and he’s definitely not her husband. They’ve barely even talked about what’s been going on between them. She seemed like she was on the same page, but when he thinks about it, he doesn’t know what she wants. If she wants anything. Still, he can’t let go of how badly he wishes he could’ve been there in the other guy’s place.

Family dinners, quiet nights in, just enjoying each other’s company and the company of their kids. He closes his eyes and rolls over in bed. Picturing himself doing those normal life things is a lot easier than it’s ever been before. When he pictures it, she’s the one sitting next to him, smiling that smile of hers. He hasn’t even kissed her yet and he’s dreaming about happily ever after. Two weeks ago he thought happily ever after was a myth.

He groans, running his hands through his hair. After another minute he stretches his long limbs to opposite corners of the mattress and forces himself to sit up. Sitting on the side of the bed he feels heavy and old. He shuts his eyes and there’s Gwen waiting for him again in his imagination. She’s so energetic, so full of life, and probably the most beautiful person he’s ever known. He can’t blame her if she’s not sure about him. He’s not convinced he could keep up with her. If he even deserves to.

A pounding on his bedroom door saves him from his thoughts. “Hey! Blake! You up?”

“Yeah!” He calls. “Kinda. What’s up?”

“Are you gonna make me shout our whole conversation through the door?”

“Well come in then!”

When Adam walks in they roll their eyes at each other, and break into smirks at the exact same time.

“When you wanna head out?”

Blake raises an eyebrow, “What’re you talking about?”

“Come on man, we’re both here, we’re both going there. Why don’t we just ride together? And before you start, Behati’s gonna do my hair here so you won’t have to sit around.”

Yesterday he begged off Adam’s suggestion, complaining they had different call times. He’d hoped that he’d have other plans after work and wouldn’t need Adam’s ride home, but that turned out to be a total failure. So today he has no excuse.

“Alright, fine. You wanna be carpool buddies so bad, let’s do it.”

 

**

As predicted, he’s the first one ready by a long shot, sitting and waiting alone for their morning production meeting. He settles into the corner of the red couch that faces Gwen’s trailer. The producers and the other guys trickle in until Gwen is the only one missing. Adam and Pharrell chat about some artist Blake doesn’t know anything about, while Carson takes a call, and half a dozen crew members check their phones and watches. Eventually Gwen appears. Blake notices her immediately—he’s developed some kind of sixth sense for knowing when she’s nearby. And since he sees her before anyone else, he’s the only one that sees her tired frown. Any disappointment he felt that she didn’t call evaporates, as he has to physically stop himself from getting up and going to her.

As soon as Gwen realizes there’s an entire group waiting for her, she blinks hard and literally turns her frown upside down. When she finds his eyes waiting to meet hers, her smile turns more genuine, and he can see her eyes sparkle from several feet away. His heart feels like a basketball when he sees the effect he has on her, exactly the same effect as she has on him.

He’s purposely been using his large frame to take up two spots on the couch, so that now he can adjust and offer her a seat. She plops down with a bounce and apologizes to the group for being late. The bosses announce that they want to try and make today the last day of auditions, if possible. As they talk he can see Gwen trying to be inconspicuous about glancing his way. She’s terrible at subtlety and it’s hard not to laugh at how cute she is when she’s eyeballing him like this.

The meeting is mercifully short, and as everyone else chats and gathers themselves to head to their places, he leans over to catch Gwen before she stands.

“You okay?”

She keeps her expression blank as she looks at him. “Hmm?”

“Rough night?”

She frowns and her eyes soften. “Oh my god. Let’s talk about it later. I can’t even get into it right now, I’ll get emotional.”

He nods and moves to stand, but she catches him with cool fingers on his arm. He settles back in as she leans closer to him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” she whispers.

“Oh, hey, that’s alright, I get it. I just figured—“

She interrupts. “No. I’m not the girl who says she’ll call and then doesn’t. But it’s just. I was really upset and I just...” she pauses and lifts her eyes to the ceiling. “There’s like a 99% chance I was gonna cry if I heard your voice and that was like, way too embarrassing, and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and like, I don’t know, it just felt like a bad idea. I’m really sorry.” Her voice breaks as she finishes.

“Hey! Shh,” he reaches a hand out to rub her back and though he’s suddenly very aware of their surroundings, he comforts her anyway. “Gwen, you can always talk to me. You’re not gonna make me uncomfortable. I kinda...I mean, I want to be that person you come to for that stuff. When you need a friend or a shoulder to lean on when you’re upset. I’m not scared by a little crying. Never think you shouldn’t call. Trust me there’s nothing you could do that’s gonna make me think, ‘damn that’s embarrassing.’”

Her eyes are glistening and for a second she just sits there looking at him with a small smile. “Oh my god,” she says. “We need to get up before I totally ruin my makeup.”

“Oh man. Ruining your makeup? I take back what I just said. That shit’s embarrassing.”

Her laugh rings through the corridor and runs all the way through him. 

By the time the first contestant comes out on stage, she seems back to her normal self. Even with Pharrell obstructing his view, he can feel her energy, vibrant as ever. Although it’s a new thing, spending any real, meaningful time with her, now that he’s gotten to know her better, he feels her everywhere. He’s always noticed her, the way any guy notices the cute girl at work, the way all men notice Gwen Stefani, but this is different. He’s constantly aware of her now, and it’s sensory overload.

First, he can’t stop looking at her. She’s so beautiful and energetic, he could watch her forever. She makes it easy though, because she’s always getting out of her chair, making a spectacle of herself, doing crazy shit that the rest of them are too bored or lazy to do. When she tried to block some kid’s view of him like a human shield, he struggled not to reach out and grab her. And then there was the shoe throwing. Cute and playful and hot as hell. Even if that stiletto had hit him right in the face it would’ve been the best part of the day, messing around with her like that. He doesn’t remember her being like this last year. She doesn’t act like this with Pharrell, and she barely pays any attention to Adam at all. She acts like this for Blake, and it’s enough to undo him. 

It doesn’t help that she’s loud. He doesn’t remember her being loud before either. But on set, she’s always yelling “Oh my God!” when she gets excited, making him imagine the other times he might make her scream like that. It’s distracting. But at least it’s not as dangerous as her laugh. She laughs all the time, even at his dumbest jokes, and the sound of it does something to him, makes all his nerves vibrate and his pulse pound. Making her giggle has become a game for him, because he can’t get enough of that sound.

And on top of everything else, there’s the way she touches him. In private, they touch all the time, his arm around her, her leaning against him. Even in this short amount of time, the physical contact feels natural. So maybe that’s why she doesn’t seem to think twice about touching him on camera. It’s just little things that might mean nothing to her. She’ll touch his arm while they’re talking. Once when he lost a big 4-chair turn, she massaged her fingers over his shoulders and rubbed his back (and he did everything he could not to imagine those nails scraping down his bare skin). 

At the end of the morning taping, he loses a teenage country singer he’s sure will come to his team. So when Shelby picks Adam, while the whole room goes crazy, Gwen comes right up to him and actually hugs him. It’s overwhelming, because there she is, her body pressed against his shoulder, arms around him, filling his space. Plus, she always smells good, but up close like this where he can breathe her in, it’s amazing. So there she is laughing and consoling him at the same time, hanging onto him like it’s totally normal behavior, meanwhile smelling like actual Heaven, and he’s struck stupid. He wants to pull her into his lap and hang on, nuzzle into her, but that would raise some eyebrows, so instead he clutches her arm, keeping her there with him a few beats longer than necessary. Even when they break apart, she doesn’t leave his side. Instead she stands there, keeping her hand on his shoulder like it belongs there. It feels like a small miracle that they break for lunch after that, because he’s not sure he could function right away.

As soon as they’re dismissed, Gwen hops out of her seat. He expects her to meet him at his chair but instead she flashes him a smile as she keeps on walking. He watches her walk away, noticing a confident skip in her step. “Eyes upfront, Cowboy,” Adam says, snapping his fingers in Blake’s face. 

Blake rolls his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Adam drops it, for once. “C’mon let’s go. I’m fucking starving.” 

Back at the trailer compound, Blake loads his plate with calamari, and after some goading from Adam, a salad. He’s never eaten more vegetables in his life than in his time staying with Levines. But he’s down a full notch in his belt already, so he doesn’t complain too much. He tries to stall, teasing Adam about how obsessed he is with nutrition facts, but after a minute or two, there’s no more excuses to stand at the buffet, unless he wants to admit he’s waiting for Gwen. They’re about to find a table in the common area when Adam’s phone rings. 

“Shit, it’s my manager, gotta take it,” Adam says as he turns and heads for his trailer. 

Alone in the middle of the compound, Blake weighs his options. He briefly considers joining a table of crewmembers, before turning back to the buffet table. He remembers one time she might’ve said she doesn’t eat meat, but other than that he has no idea what she likes for lunch. So he piles a bunch of random options onto a plate and heads for her trailer. 

She answers the door quickly after he knocks. She’s wearing the same RAD shirt she was wearing the other day at breakfast, this time with yoga pants and blue fuzzy slippers on her feet. “Oh hi!” she says. I was just gonna come find you. 

“Thought I’d give it a shot. I didn’t know if you were busy working or whatever,” he said. 

“I had a message from the nanny, I needed to call her back. And get those shoes off,” she laughs. 

“Heh. I don’t blame ya.”

“So what do you have there?” she asks. 

“Oh, well, I just wanted to come check in with ya. Brought you some food. I didn’t know what you’d want or if you’re even hungry, but...I brought you a pancake with a hole, I know you like those.” He nods at a glazed donut on her plate. 

She giggles, and it’s infectious. “Perfect!” she says. “Let’s, like, sit!” 

He follows her to the little table by the kitchenette, and lets his eyes wander over her lycra-covered legs as she gathers up some clutter and throws it on the sofa. He’s still ogling her as she turns to take the plates from him, and she notices. But instead of looking offended or embarrassed, she looks intrigued. She raises an eyebrow at him and smirks, but says nothing. 

She sits and looks over the spread he’s delivered. She’s cute when she concentrates, pouting her lips as she considers her options. He stays still and smiles as he watches her. “Mmm. I didn’t know I was hungry until right now! You know what I mean? That fruit looks good. And the salad looks amazing.” 

“Oh, you want the salad?” He pushes his plate closer to her, and she turns a little pink. 

“Oh sorry, that’s your plate! No that’s okay, I don’t want to take your food.” 

“Be my guest, seriously.” 

“How bout we split it?” She jumps up out of her seat and returns with two forks and napkins. Then she scoots her chair as close to his as she can fit it, and looks at him. “Is this ok?” she asks.

He’s not sure whether she means sharing his food or invading his personal space but in the moment he can’t imagine saying no to her.

“It’s perfect.” His voice comes out softer than usual, tender almost. It’s not a tone he’s used to. She gazes at him for half a second before ducking her head. Then after a moment she shakes herself and bounces her shoulders a little bit, and takes a bite of greens. 

She smiles with closed lips as she chews, and he takes a bite to join her. As they eat, they make small talk about what foods they like, both on the table in front of them and in general. After a few minutes, he realizes they’ve been moving closer to each other so now their knees are touching and his arm is draped across the back of her chair. When he reaches for a slice of pineapple off of her plate his shoulder brushes her chest. As he looks up to see if she’s noticed, her face turns toward his, and suddenly they are only an inch apart. They both freeze for a long beat, staring at each other, before they break into a chuckle. There’s an electric current buzzing around them, which he tries to ignore. But she doesn’t seem uncomfortable. The opposite actually. She touches his arm when she’s talking to him; lets her foot rest on top of his boot. When he drops a pepper on himself she plucks it off of him like it’s the most normal thing in the world. He’s as nervous as a teenager on his first date ever, but at the same time, he feels like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be, as if they’ve been sharing meals like this for years. 

“Okay!” she says, clapping a little as she snaps to attention in her seat. “So the message I got from the nanny was that King got invited to a sleepover at a friend’s house tonight. And of course Zuma got jealous because he likes to do anything Kingston is doing, so he wants to go over to my brother’s house and have a sleepover with his cousin Stella. And my nephew is about Apollo’s age so they’re bff’s too, so my brother and his wife are taking both of the younger ones. So the point is, if you want to, I’d totally love to cash in my raincheck! I’m kid free! It's like a miracle. I can’t believe it!”

Inwardly he curses himself for riding with Adam, because now he’s gonna have to figure out how to get away from him later. But still, he thinks Gwen is asking him out on a date right now, and there’s no way in hell he’s passing that up. “Well then, consider that check cashed,” he says. “I can’t wait!”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to post this lil guy early because I'm so anxious to get you all to the last 2 chapters! I know UST/slow burns can be painful so thank you so much for sticking with me. xoxo

Chapter 8. 

 

After lunch, Gwen can’t stop smiling. It’s starting to hurt her face, grinning ear to ear like this. She feels like she might be glowing, like if someone looked at her they’d see a cloud of glitter around her. Blake was so cute showing up at her trailer with lunch for her. And it was perfect because it was so much more intimate than they could have been in that big open room. It’s gotten to the point where the closer she is to him, the better she feels. So sharing food and bumping arms and legs was a perfect way to forget about last night and the headache she woke up with this morning.

There’s a crazy energy on set in the afternoon. Maybe it’s her imagination because she’s so excited for the evening, or maybe it’s because the auditions are winding down. Adam’s team is completely full, Pharrell has two spots left, and she and Blake each have one. With nothing to focus on Adam seems even more wired than usual, and he bounces up to her chair after the first break.

“So I heard you wanna get a little wild tonight?” he says.

She chokes on the water she’s sipping. “I what?”

“Blake said you wanted to have drinks after work.”

“Oh! Um, yeah, I—“

He doesn’t let her respond. “We used to hang out after filming all the time around here but we haven’t been doing it lately. I’m stoked! I already made a shopping list and gave it to a PA so we can start the party as soon as we’re done here...”

She glances towards Blake’s chair, where he’s listening to them with a deeply furrowed brow.

“So yeah!” Adam finishes. “It’s gonna be amazing! Anyway I gotta pee, be back in a minute.”

She watches him skip off, until Blake clears his throat to get her attention. He’s suddenly standing right in front of her.

“Uh, sorry about that...” The way he slouches his shoulders and hangs his head reminds her of King and Zuma when she catches them being naughty. It’s extra cute seeing that move on an enormous grown man.

“What was that? What is happening?”

He huffs out a deep sigh. “Well, Adam and I drove into work together this morning. And I was trying to tell him I didn’t need a ride home because you and I were gonna grab a drink, but of course he wanted to join us.” He rolls his eyes. “And I didn’t really know where you and me are at with like, what we’re telling people, or really, if you think there even is anything to tell, so i didn't know what to say. I just kinda went with it. I told him we should get the whole crew together to hang here, make it a party. That way if you and I wanna slip out early or get dinner later...or you know maybe you're good with just hanging here, whatever you wanna do. This’ll be a little easier. Heh. I really didn’t think he’d want to hang out, I thought he’d be sick of me. Shoulda known he’d never pass up a chance to hang out with you, though.”

He smiles at her then, apparently finished with his explanation. She shakes her head. “So you basically organized an entire after party so we could hang out tonight?”

He starts to answer before shrugging his shoulders. “I guess so,” he chuckles.

“I can work with that,” she says.

**

 

Right off the bat, the first contestant of the session is a girl with the sweetest, most soothing voice. She sings the pop standard "Dream a Little Dream of Me." With that magical voice behind them, Gwen finds Blake looking at her, the expression on his face sending vibrations all the way through her. She tries to stay calm because the cameras are rolling and if she shows even a fraction of what she's really feeling she'll make people talk. 

Of course, staying calm only lasts a couple of minutes. The contestant, Amy, is the most beautiful person she’s ever seen on this show, and her voice and her vibe are so cool and pretty, she reminds Gwen of a Disney princess. Gwen wants her bad. But she can see how Amy is looking at Pharrell, and she tries to step in. She tells her not to get distracted by how cute Pharrell is, and before she can think about it she hears herself saying, “and then there’s Blake, who again, is very…handsome!”

  
The crowd whistles and cheers, and Blake makes a fist pump congratulating himself. She really wants this jazzy Pocahontas, so she presses on with her pitch, ignoring the burning sensation in her cheeks. She’s not sure why she’s even embarrassed in the first place.  It shouldn’t feel so awkward to call someone handsome. It’s just the truth, he  _ is  _ handsome. Women all over America agree with her, and they’ve told her so. She has no problem calling Pharrell cute, she’s been doing so all week and it feels totally natural. This shouldn’t be different. She looks at Blake and he seems totally focused on getting Amy to pick him, so she tells herself she’s acting crazy.

There’s a five minute break after Amy’s audition. Pharrell and Adam are gathered together talking about how perfect Amy is, Adam whining about why she had to be scheduled for the last day. Blake, who declared her the winner right before the cameras went off, ignores them and joins Gwen at her chair instead.

“Handsome, huh?” 

Her cheeks burn all over again. The grin on his face is huge, and the dimples are so deep they could work as pockets.

She closes her eyes, trying to think of something to say. She can’t hold back a grin of her own, though. She remembers, suddenly, the comments he’s made, little jabs at himself, and decides he needs to hear the truth. 

She opens her eyes, so he can see her roll them, feigning annoyance. “Well, duh. You’re like, a total babe.” 

He laughs nervously, and glances over at the other guys. “Is that right?”

She raises an eyebrow at him, daring him to say something snarky.

“So I guess that makes two total babes in these chairs today,” he says.

She smiles bright. “Oh really?”

“Definitely. I mean look at him. Adam is a beautiful specimen of a man.” There’s a little skip in his step as he walks back to his own chair.

“Oh hoh!” Gwen exclaims, laughing.

Once he’s seated he looks at her, and his gaze doesn’t even meet her eyes before he barks out a laugh, doubling over on the desktop of his chair, giggling as he watches her. His glee over his own stupid joke makes her laugh even harder. “You’re so dumb,” she tells him.

“Duh,” Adam says behind her. “You’re just figuring that out?” 

Blake laughs louder.

 

The next contestant they hear is a pop rock singer. She likes what she’s hearing but she’s a bit on the fence. She looks to Adam, because it’s his kind of music, but he’s not paying attention at all. When she turns to look at the other two, Blake is already looking her way. When they make eye contact, he raises his eyebrows with a little smirk. She bends forward to see him clearly, but by the time she has a chance to see his face, he’s pressed his button. As his chair turns he smirks at her again. Still amped up from their earlier conversation, it only takes her a second to decide it’s game on, and Blake better watch out. He pretends to be mad that she turned, but he’s laughing and they both know he was waiting for this. 

Unfortunately, even though the guy says he’s alternative rock, he’s also from Dallas, Texas and he works at some famous country bar that she’s of course never heard of. He actually mentions square dancing, which she didn’t know people really do in real life.  Blake is all excited because he loves that place. She can see it in the contestant’s eyes. He might love alt-rock, but he loves Texas--and Blake--even more. She tries to convince him that an Orange County girl with rock band experience would be good for him, because it would give him something different. A new perspective instead of going down the same old boring path. In the back of her head there’s a voice telling her the contestant isn’t the only one she’s talking to.   

It doesn’t work, of course, and he picks Blake. Blake is so charming, it’s hard to win against him. She throws her notebook at him to let him know he’s in trouble, and he laughs at her before going up to hug his final team member. When he turns around he grins at her, clapping and looking way too proud of himself. She jogs up to him, teasing him for talking about square dancing and Texas, as if those things matter on a singing competition, but he answers right back, imitating her voice and making fun of her for using her girl card. They’re both talking so fast, standing so close, that for a minute she forgets other people are there. She remembers when she hears audience members laughing, so she backs down and skips back to her seat while Blake declares victory because his team is full. 

When he sits back down he leans forward to smile at her again. Not the devious smirking from before, but a genuine, happy smile. With that look on his face, it’s hard to even pretend to be mad at him. “That was fun!” he calls over to her.

“I know!” 

“Too bad I had to win so many contestants already or we coulda done it again!” He doesn’t even wait for her response. He shouts out that crazy laugh of his, grinning and giggling with squinty eyes, bending so far over towards her in his chair, she’s afraid the whole thing is about to topple onto Pharrell. She makes sure he’s looking at her when she rolls her eyes, even if she can’t help but laugh along with him. 

A little while later, a country girl with a light, delicate voice and incredible range is on stage. Blake looks over at the rest of them and comments that she's pretty good. When she sings a minor sixth with a little twirl in her voice, and stays perfectly on pitch, Gwen looks at Blake again and he kind of wiggles his eyebrows at her. She takes that as a go ahead and presses her button.

Pharrell ends up turning too. Gwen persuades her with compliments about her pretty voice, and her normal speech about wanting to help young female artists who are just starting their careers. But she also wants to make sure the girl knows that Gwen is not gonna let her own lack of country knowledge get in the way. 

“Also...I'm pretty tight with Blake!” She says, crossing her fingers to show how tight.

The audience laughs, and Blake throws in, “that's right! And you should use that cuz I don't help Pharrell at all.” 

There's a pause then while Summer decides who she wants to choose. In the momentary quiet, Gwen second-guesses herself. Did she expose herself? She glances at Blake who is staring at the contestant, even though usually it seems like he can feel when she wants his attention. It's probably nothing though, she decides. No one would think anything about it, they'd just think she means she and Blake are buddies and she's name-dropping him to win.

And it works, too because Summer picks her. Gwen can't help herself, as she hugs her new team member she promises to make Blake help her with the country stuff. Summer doesn't seem to care that much though, she's so excited to make the show. She smiles and thanks Gwen again, taking her t-shirt and heading backstage. 

When Gwen turns back around to face the chairs, Blake is beaming, looking quite proud. She cheers for herself, singing out, “country!” He laughs and applauds, cheering her on as she stands on her chair and announces to the audience that her team is full. She smiles over at him, and any nervousness from a few minutes ago is gone. Their eyes lock, and she lets herself get lost in the way his eyes crinkle so deeply as he smiles at her. Even with a few feet and a Pharrell separating them, she can see his blue irises sparkling as he gazes back at her. This much eye contact often makes her a little uncomfortable, but with Blake she can't get enough. They haven't said anything, or done anything other than laugh and stare, but enough time passes that a producer yells at them to focus because the next contestant is about to start. 

Pharrell is the only one left with a spot open, so he’s the only one left to press his button. But Pharrell is picky, and just because he only has one spot to fill doesn’t mean they’ll be done soon. First up is a tiny little indie folk singer with a beautiful upper register. But Pharrell thinks she’s too much like someone else on his team. Next a pop singer auditions, but she’s too pitchy. While she’s singing, Gwen’s phone buzzes. She looks to make sure the coast is clear, then checks it on her lap.

_ So we’re pretty tight, huh?  _ Blake’s message says.

She glances at him and he glances back, raising his eyebrows. 

_ I needed her to know I could hang with the country crowd.  _

_ Oh is that right? I feel used!  _

She giggles, out loud, catching Adam’s attention. “Sorry” she whispers and bites her lip to stop another giggle. 

She sends back: I’m _ kidding!! Of course we’re tight. It’s not like I make pancakes for just anyone. _

_ I made the pancakes!  _

Before she can respond, their chairs turn for the critique of the current singer’s audition. Gwen starts by telling her she did a great job, but everyone’s team is full, leaving Pharrell to give her the real notes. The producers call a fifteen minute break after that, and in a flash Blake is standing in front of her chair. “Did you get my text?” 

“Yeah I got it! And pancakes were my idea, so that counts as me making them!” 

“You can’t  _ eat _ ideas, Gwen!” 

She laughs and hops out of her chair. As she’s distracted by her giggling, her heel catches on something and she trips. Without any hesitation Blake reaches out an arm and wraps it around her waist to steady her. He leaves it there with a hand on her hip for a moment or two while they walk. It was only a few seconds that he was holding her but she misses his touch when it’s gone.

When the quiet between them starts to feel awkward, she bounces and turns towards him, “I can’t wait for tonight! I’m so ready to go! A beer sounds so good right now.”

He scoffs, but not unkindly. “A beer sounds good huh? You might have a little country in you after all.”

“That’s what she said!” Adam says, skipping up behind them. 

“That doesn't even make sense! You’re a dumbass,” Blake tells him.

“Yeah, but you love it!” Adam pinches Blake’s cheek and jogs off again, headed for the food table. 

“Anyways, I’m excited to hang out!” Gwen says. “I feel like I’ve been waiting 100 years for this date with you.” 

She blushes as soon as the words leave her mouth, and Blake’s eyes go wide. His dimples are out in full force as he looks at her, and the intensity of his gaze makes the butterflies in her stomach flutter like crazy. He looks like he’s trying to decide on an answer but all he says is “I know exactly what you mean.” 

Suddenly overwhelmed with nerves, she excuses herself to the ladies’ room and hides there until the end of the break. When it's time, an assistant comes to collect her. She tries to stay cool as she walks to her chair, but she can't help herself. She looks at Blake as she passes him. When he sees her his face lights up, and she returns the same goofy grin. 

While they wait, Blake leans over to Pharrell and says, “This is gonna be the one, I can feel it.”

Pharrell chuckles. “Guess we’ll find out.”

Blake looks over at her, shaking his head. She laughs.

It's not the one. While the contestant is singing, Gwen watches Blake squirm in his seat. She's used to Adam being restless, while Blake is usually quiet and relaxed, happy to sit and wait. But today she can feel his nervous energy from two seats over. She can practically see it radiating off of him while he taps his foot at warp speed.

The next contestant isn't the one either. It's a country singer with a strong, emotive voice. Gwen decides she would've pressed for him if she had any spots left. When Pharrell doesn't press his button for him either, Blake looks almost annoyed. “Is your button broke or something?” 

Pharrell laughs but Blake doesn't. Gwen laughs too, but she's also a little worried about what he'll do if things don't speed up. Luckily the next singer is the final of the week. When Pharrell finally presses his button, Blake turns around, kneeling on the seat and peeking over the top of his chair to watch the audition. Gwen feels like a schoolgirl breaking some sacred school rule, but she wants to watch too so she peeks around the side of her chair. 

As soon as Pharrell talks to her and they all congratulate her, it's a wrap for filming. She's still thinking about the singer and sneaking a look at her audition when Blake comes up to her chair. The sound of him makes her jump a little. She only notices his voice, doesn't hear what he says. 

“Hmm?” She says.

He smiles at her, apparently amused by the way she spaces out. “I said, are you ready to get wild?”

“Oh! Haha yeah! I've been waiting all day! Wooh!” She gets out of her chair as she says this, and imitates a little cheer move. 

Blake laughs. “I can see that. Okay, well then! Let's get out there and get this party started!”


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9.

 

They make their way back to the trailer compound together, climbing into the back of a golf cart driven by a starstruck-looking intern, who gushes, “Thank you Ms. Stefani! Have a great night!” when they arrive. Blake’s not sure the kid even knew he was there, not that he can blame him. Gwen has his full attention, too. When they get inside, they head back to their trailers to change. Blake throws on fresh deodorant and the blue checkered shirt he showed up in this morning and is back at the couches in less than five minutes.

He looks around the room thinking about his options. He’d like to just go knock on Gwen’s door right now, but he doesn’t want to look too obvious, either to the room full of coworkers or Gwen herself. Luckily Adam’s loud voice distracts him. “The hell are you doing man?” he says.

Blake blinks at him. “What do you mean? I'm not doing anything.”

“Exactly. You look like a lost puppy. Here, take a drink.” 

Blake takes the red solo cup Adam offers. “What is this?” He asks, though he doesn't wait for the answer before taking a drink. 

“It's vodka & tonic. I know you like Sprite but dude, there’s just way too much sugar in that shit. And you know that many chemicals will...” 

Blake doesn't hear the rest of Adam’s lecture because Gwen’s trailer door opens and a pair of long legs wrapped in impossibly tight black pants step out. She spots him right away, smiling and giving him a little wave as she makes her way to them. 

“You're staring...again,” Adam mutters as she walks closer. Blake ignores him. 

Her pants are some kind of shiny, rubbery, fake leather material, that hugs her every inch of her skin. She's also wearing black high heels, and a black tank top that leaves very little to the imagination. He can see nearly all of the hot pink lace bra she's got on underneath. She's added a new lip gloss that makes her mouth look wet. 

“Hi!” She says, breaking him out of his stupor.

“Uh, hi.” He smiles and their eyes lock. She smiles back at him, taking a step closer to him without dropping her gaze.

He tries to think of something to say but he’s so focused on looking her in the eye, all his other senses seem to be broken down.

“Okay wow, compelling stuff. Seriously. I'm gonna go talk to that empty chair, it's for sure gonna have more to say than you guys right now.” Adam waits until Blake looks at him to roll his eyes and wander away. 

“Wow,” Blake says, letting his gaze flick down her body so she knows what he means. 

She shakes her head, but smiles appreciatively. 

"How do you do that?" He asks. 

She looks down at herself and glances around the room, "do what?"

"We've been here for about a hundred hours today, half the people in here look like zombies, and you look like you're about ready to strut down a freakin runway." He makes a show of letting his eyes travel over her again. 

She laughs on an exhale, a nervous tick he's noticed from her. "This? It's just a tank top and pants." 

He raises an eyebrow. "That's not just a tank top and pants. But, then again, you could probably make a pair of waders look hot."

Another little laugh. "I have no idea what that means, but you're sweet." 

Now it’s his turn to laugh. He usually forgets that they’re from totally different worlds, until she says something like this, that would shock some of his friends back home, where fishing and hunting are parts of everyday life. 

“So what do you have there?” she asks, tapping his cup with a fingernail.

“Oh this? This is vodka. Adam just handed it to me, otherwise I would’ve gotten you something. Can I get you one now?” 

“Hmm, definitely, but I’ll just come with you.”

They wander towards the crowd in the corner, where they find a couple of interns playing bartender, and what feels like a hundred people who want to make small talk. He watches as Gwen expertly navigates the overeager chatter of at least half a dozen junior members of the crew. She picks them off like a running back dodging linemen. Occasionally she glances over at him with a sparkle in her eye, like she wants to include him in an inside joke. 

Finally they manage to get free, so she leads him up to the makeshift bar, where she orders herself a vodka & tonic. 

“Vodka, huh? What happened to beer?” he says.

She smiles at him and shrugs. “It’s my go to, actually. Especially at parties.” 

He smiles big. “Well ok! If you're trying to impress me right now, it’s working.”

He gets a big, beautiful smile in return. 

As they try to make their way out of the crowd, a couple of Blake’s buddies on the crew call to him. He tries to wave them off but they’re in a heated debate about the NASCAR season and insist on his opinion. He shoots Gwen an apologetic smile as he joins them. While Blake tries to catch up on what the guys are arguing about, Pharrell glides up to Gwen. He places a hand on her elbow and leans in close to whisper in her ear. She nods and smiles, rubbing his bicep as she answers him. Blake watches as Pharrell leads her away, as an uncomfortable feeling threatens his stomach.  

After a few minutes the racing talk ends and Blake wanders away from the crowd, stopping for small talk here and there along the way. He spots Gwen standing with Pharrell near the trailers looking deep in conversation. He senses it’s a private talk and he shouldn’t join them. Adam spots him and nods his head toward the unoccupied couches, so Blake walks that way.

They choose opposite sofas. Blake settles into the corner of one, while Adam sits in the middle of the other, leaning back and spreading out so he takes up nearly the whole space. He drums his hands against the cushions.

“What’s up, dickhead?” Blake says.

“ _ You’re  _ a dickhead,” Adam grunts. 

Blake rolls his eyes and sips his drink. He tries not to stare at Gwen and Pharrell, but he’s feeling a little lost without her by his side. It’s an odd feeling considering he’s been friends with half the people in this room for years, and he’s only been close to Gwen for a week. But it’s been an intense week, and she makes him feel comfortable in a way he’s not used to. He doesn’t need to be class clown around her. He can relax, and be himself no matter what he’s feeling. But on the other hand she’ll laugh at his jokes when he makes them, and it’s incredibly sexy when she does.  

While he waits he finishes the rest of his drink. It’s stronger than he’d normally make it, strong enough that he’s already feeling the beginning haze of a buzz. He half-listens as Adam tells him about two of Behati’s friends who were at the pool party the other day. A few more minutes pass and Gwen makes her way back to the couches with Pharrell at her side. Blake’s arm is stretched out along the back of the couch and Gwen plops down right against the edge that his shoulder and hip create. But whether it’s on purpose or her aim is off after sipping a solo cup of vodka, she lands with the flesh of her thigh splayed against his, so she’s basically on top of him without actually sitting in his lap. He shifts instinctively, but not enough to break the contact. She doesn’t acknowledge it at all—not even a glance in his direction.

She and Pharrell share a laugh at Adam’s dramatics. Blake is hardly listening, but when Adam says, “And then they let the fucking wet dog in my _bed_!” the other two lose it.

Adam’s ranting winds down after another minute or two and Pharrell takes the opportunity to jump in. “I gotta get back.” 

He shakes Adam’s hand first, then turns to Blake and does the same.

“Leaving already? Stay for a drink.”

“Nah,” he shakes his head. “Next time though!”  

He leans over Blake to kiss Gwen’s cheek. If he notices how they’re sitting, he doesn’t mention it. “We’ll talk soon. Hit me up with that,” he tells her. 

“For sure,” she says. “I’ll keep you posted!” 

They watch for a moment as he waves and heads for the door. 

“Keep you posted about—“

But before Blake can get the question out, Adam lets out a loud high-pitched giggle. Gwen’s eyes go wide at the sound. His head is buried in his phone, his fingers texting furiously. 

“What’s so important over there?” she calls to him. 

No answer. 

“Come join the party!”

Adam doesn’t even look up, just keeps tapping away as Gwen rolls her cup in her hands waiting for a reply. Blake smiles. It’s cute to see the world’s coolest woman look like an awkward teenager. 

After a minute Adam breaks the quiet by giggling again. Blake throws a piece of ice at him and it hits him on the chin. “What the fuck!” Adam yelps.

“She asked you a question! Don’t be rude.” 

He looks between them. “Oh, hey Gwen, sorry. What’s up?” 

She looks a little pink. “Nothing, I was just wondering what’s so funny?”

“It’s Behati,” he says.

Gwen awws. 

“Don’t your thumbs get tired?” Blake asks.

Then Adam smiles this big, dopey grin, “Nah. The Wife is worth it.” 

“Awww, that’s adorable,” Blake deadpans.

“We’re debating whether she should come here to hang out or if I should go home.” Adam says.

Something twists in Blake’s gut. Was there ever a time he couldn’t wait to get back to his wife? It’s hard to remember now. “What the hell? This whole thing was your idea!”

“It was Gwen’s idea!” 

“It wasn’t me!” She’s sitting so close to him that when Gwen laughs it sends vibrations over the length of Blake’s body.  

“Whatever.  Anyway, she just made an awesome point, which is that at home, we get to be naked. So I think she wins.”

“No, don’t go,” Gwen says, though she doesn’t sound too concerned. She drops a hand onto Blake’s leg, and once again he’s not sure if it’s a conscious move of not. 

“I mean, no one’s sayin’ y’all can’t be naked here,” Blake says. The joke has its desired effect as Gwen lets out a scandalized guffaw, gripping his leg as she throws her head back. “Fact if it’s naked you want, I’ll take my pants off right now.” He reaches for his belt buckle, jostling Gwen a little in the process.

“Oh my God!” she exclaims, throwing her hands up to her face.

“Uh yeah, as enticing as  _ that  _ is, I think I’m just gonna go,” Adam says.

Blake laughs, and puts his arm back behind Gwen.

“Have fun tonight you two,” he says. “See you in a couple weeks.”

“Hey! Bring me a drink before you go,” Blake shouts after him.

“Me too, please,” Gwen calls. 

Adam groans dramatically, but does as asked. As Blake watches him walk to the makeshift bar, he notices the crowd is dwindling. Most of the people left are the young PAs and interns, taking advantage of the free booze. They are crowding around a table on the other side of the compound playing a game of some kind. 

“That looks fun,” Gwen says, following his eyes. “Want to see what they’re doing?” 

He frowns. “Do you?” 

She laughs, “No, not really.”

He locks eyes with her as he smiles, “I’m happy right here.” 

“Me too,” she says softly. She shifts her upper body in his direction without moving her leg from where it still rests against his. She draws little patterns on his thigh with her fingernails, a feeling he’s starting to get awfully used to after the past few days. 

They’re interrupted by Adam making a commotion like he just hauled furniture instead of a couple drinks. “Here you go, your majesties,” he announces, and sets whole bottles of vodka and tonic and cup full of ice on the floor next to their feet. “Don’t say I never do nice things,” he says. 

“Aww, oh my gosh, thank you Adam!” Gwen says, with a lot more sincerity than Blake would have managed. 

“You’re welcome, Gwen.” He looks at Blake for a second, but stops himself. He tilts his head, a smug little smirk on his face like he’s the first one to solve a puzzle, as he looks between them nestled in the corner of the couch, almost on top of each other.

“You kids be good,” he says and flashes them a smile that is way too innocent. As he’s leaving he calls back, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“That leaves our options wide open,” Blake fires back. Adam throws a middle finger up over his head as he walks away. 

Gwen giggles. “He’s so stupid.” 

“Literally,” Blake says. 

She glances at the bottles on the floor and smiles. “Give me your cup!” 

He does as he’s told, and watches as she leans forward placing the cups on the ground and reaching for the ice. As she moves, her leg slips away from him but it only half registers. Her knee knocks against his as she spreads her legs open in order to get her body closer to the ground. She’s folded over so far her chest is practically parallel to the floor, and she doesn’t even seem to notice that she looks like some kind of yoga contortionist goddess while she plays bartender for him. It doesn’t help that in this position he has a full view of her back, where her shirt is riding up, her pants gaping out, and a black lacy thong is peeking out, teasing him. 

Before his brain can register it, he brings his hand down and wraps it around her side, straddling the line where her shirt and skin meet, and rubs his thumb along the hemline. She makes a little purring sound but doesn’t react beyond that, instead continuing with her mixology.

After another couple of moments she sits back up and hands him a cup, bringing the other to her mouth. As she settles in more fully against him, he slides his hand out of the way and it ends up against her hip. She seems completely at ease cuddling with him, returning her hand to its place on his thigh, her ass pressed up against his hip. He’s feeling a little less at ease, and after taking a sip, drops the cup to help cover his lap. They chat about the work day for a while, about all of Pharrell’s passes, while Blake lets himself get wrapped up in the feeling of her, soft and warm. 

He revels in the intimacy of the moment: the way his fingers play with the hem of her top as they chat; the way she is allowing her entire body to sink against him. Her smell is familiar to him now, fresh, floral and energetic. As pristine as it was twelve hours ago. Her fingers are doing the doodling thing again, and at some point he’s gonna ask if she knows she does it. For now though he enjoys the moment as it is. It’s exactly how he imagines that in another, different kind of life, he and his wife would’ve come home and relaxed after a long day of work and kids and normalcy. They would’ve cuddled up on the couch and shared all the day’s details, the secrets and oddities. 

Sitting here with Gwen has that kind of familiarity. The kind of comfort you can only get from sharing your days with the person who knows you best. He barely knows anything about her life. He doesn’t know if she likes coffee or a whole breakfast in the morning, what she listens to in the car, or what she watches on TV on a lazy weekend. But even without the details, he knows  _ her _ , and she knows him, as if they were born knowing each other. 

Consumed by her presence, he lets his hand trail from the hem of her shirt to her leg, allowing his fingertips to graze a path along her thigh. He’s vaguely aware that her own hand starts matching his movements on his leg, so they are wrapped around one another, creating a mirror image. He feels her shiver and shift slightly against him. Her stirring breaks his reverie and he swallows, searching for something to say.

“So, how’s Pharrell doing?” he has to clear his throat, then take a drink, because his mouth has gone dry. “I heard you say you were gonna keep him posted about something. Y’all collaborating again?”

“Oh not exactly, but I am gonna send him the songs I’ve done so far just so he can hear them.”

“Oh awesome. That’ll be good, to get his input. I gotta say, I’m a little jealous. I wanna hear ‘em too.” 

“You wanna hear my songs?” She asks. Her eyes go wide.

“Uh, yeah...course I do. When I was singing Don’t Speak the other day I was thinking, wow. Everyone knows this song, and anyone who’s ever had a hard breakup can relate perfectly to it, and  _ my friend _ wrote that. I mean...it’s unbelievable. So a chance to get a little sneak peek at your next big hits? You’re damn right I wanna hear ‘em!”

Her cheeks go pink and she shifts in her seat to look at him. “Wow, you’re too nice. I’m really proud of these new ones because it felt like I couldn’t write anything for a really long time. But I don’t want you to have like really high expectations. They’re still really fresh. But, ok! If you want to hear them, I’d love for you to. You’ll really, like, get them, I hope.” 

“Well I’m excited. Are they on your phone? Can you play ‘em for me now?” 

She looks around the room, at the group of young staff members still laughing around a table, and a couple of maintenance workers who are starting to close things up. 

“Um, I don’t think I want to play them here like, in public.” She takes a long glance at him, the pulls in a breath and adds, “So maybe we could go back to mine, and I’ll play them for you there.” 

He’s sure his heart just stopped for an entire beat as he processes her words. “So, go back to your place?” He can hear it in his voice, excitement that’s impossible to hide. 

“Um, yeah! You know, to listen to the songs. Like, if that’s ok. If you, like, um, want to.” 

“Yeah I want to,” he says, cutting off her nervous rambling. “That’s a great idea.” 

She exhales, “Ok, yay! Should we get going now? Or do you wanna hang out here some more?” 

“I’m ready anytime.” He tries to calm himself down, tries to convince himself this invitation doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like a ‘your place or mine’ hookup, it’s just more practical to go to her house, so there’s no one around to start any rumors. But then she puts her hand on his knee and runs it up his leg to get his attention, and he remembers she’s the one who called this a date. His hopes--and nerves--are suddenly running wild. 

“Blake?” he’s not sure how long she’s been trying to get his attention, but she’s looking at him with a raised eyebrow, her hand still on his leg. 

“Yeah, I’m ready when you are.”

She takes a drink from her cup, and wobbles a bit as she stands, grabbing his shoulder to steady herself.

“Whoa,” he takes her elbow and stands with her as he helps her get her balance. “Are you alright?” 

She giggles nervously. “Totally! Do you know that feeling where like, you don’t know you’re kinda tipsy until you stand up for the first time and it like rushes through you? That’s me right now.” 

He laughs, and notices the exact same effect is happening on him. He picks up his cup and takes another drink. She takes it out of his hand and takes a sip for herself, meeting his eyes as she does. 

He licks his lips, and tries to keep his voice steady as he says, “You ready to get going?” 

“Yep! I just need to go get my bag from the trailer.”

“Oh, me too. Meet you back here in two minutes.”

She giggles and skips along beside him, heading to her own door. When she comes back out, her giant black bag is slung over her arm, and she’s holding something else in a fist. As she approaches he notices she’s chewing.

“Goldfish,” she says. She holds her hand out. “Want some?”

He laughs, “Sure.” She pours the handful of crackers into his own cupped hand, then swerves around him back to the couch to reclaim her drink. He fills his mouth with goldfish and watches as she swallows down a gulp of vodka, then hands the cup over to him. “Thank you,” he says. 

She does a quick swipe over her teeth with her tongue before smiling wide, “Welcome. Wanna go?” 

“Yes,” he declares. “But, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to drive.” 

Her eyes go wide. “Oh my god! I didn’t even think about that.” 

He chuckles. “It’s alright. I’ll call my guy.”

She nods ok then takes the cup from him, helping herself to another sip. He wonders if she’s forgotten there were two drinks, or if she just likes sharing. She holds it in two hands, nursing it as she watches him use his phone. 

He calls Frank, the same driver he’s been using for the last four years. With no advance warning, Frank tells him it’s gonna be at least 45 minutes before he can get to Universal. Blake glances at Gwen, still sipping the vodka and watching him, and says fine, because if he and Gwen want to leave together, Frank is about the only driver Blake is willing to trust.

He hangs up and lets Gwen know it’ll be a wait. “Should we sit back down?” he asks.

“We could,” she says. “Or we could fix another drink and go wait outside.” When she smiles at him he’s sure he would do anything she asked, all the way down to killing a man. 

“Good idea,” he says. He takes the cup, and moves back to spot where they left the bottles. He adds the remaining ice, which is now partly melted, along with nearly equal parts vodka and tonic, then turns back to her. “Follow me.”

“Where?” she asks as she follows him. 

He slows his steps so she’s beside him. “I know a back exit, so none of those kids will see us leave together.” 

“Oooh, you got all the tricks.” 

He smirks at her. There’s a playful look in her eyes, but also a clarity he wasn’t sure he’d see after a couple of drinks. “Stick with me, kid,” he says.

“I’m trying!” she says back. 

The happy confidence of her tone shocks him and he nearly drops their cup. When he looks at her, she beams at him, and he prays that Frank gets here in record time.

Outside, it’s dark. The back door opens to a side street that’s usually deserted. There’s a couple of old stools to the left, and between them on the ground is an overflowing ashtray, with butts scattered everywhere. Smoking is prohibited on the lot, but an addiction is an addiction, and this spot has become an open secret. 

“Oh perfect!” Gwen says, and strides to the stools, grabbing one without a second glance at the mess around it, then setting it down in front of him. “Let’s play a game.”

He raises an eyebrow. “What kind of game?”

A wild grin sweeps over her face, “Let’s play ‘blind auditions’!” 

He laughs. “What does that mean?”

She bounces on the balls of her feet and waves her iPhone in his face. “Ok, so, I’ll pick a song for you to sing, and then you sing it and I’ll decide if I want to turn my chair. And then you’ll do me!” 

It’s hard not to say something inappropriate, but he keeps it to himself, stifling a snarky comment with a sip at their cup. “What song are you gonna pick?” 

“You’ll find out in a minute. But first you have to get on stage.”

He laughs again. “The stage?” 

She does a spastic little head shake and rolls her eyes, “the street.” 

She grabs him by the shoulders, spinning him then pushing him to the street. He lets her manhandle him with a dramatic—and fake—groan of reluctance. She pushes him around to where she wants him, nodding when she's satisfied. “The cup can be your mic,” she says, though she takes a sip from it before stepping off-stage. 

He’s not used to seeing this side of her, firm and take charge. There’s something cute about it, like everything else she does, but it’s also sexy as hell. Once again he’s sure she could convince him to do anything. 

“Okay so get ready!” 

“Get ready for what?” He tries to sound annoyed but it ends up in a laugh. 

She ignores him as she flicks through her phone. He takes a drink. 

“Okay, are you ready? I found your song choice. All you have to do is sing along.” 

“What if I don’t know it...” 

She grins again. “Then we’re not friends. But I’m pretty sure you know it. I mean, everyone knows this song.” 

“Well what is it!” He laughs again. 

“It’s ‘Walking on Sunshine!’ Katrina and the Waves! Perfect, right? Okay, ready?” She doesn’t wait for his answer, instead she hits play and stares at him. 

She has the volume on her phone up all the way, but the way she’s looking at him is too distracting so he has to rush to catch up when the words start. “Used to think maybe you loved me, now baby I’m suuuure...” 

The game is actually sort of fun. And she must think so too because she’s doubled over laughing. It’s distracting, and when he pauses, she pulls herself up and shouts “Keep going!” So, without the help of any backup or prompter, he sings as much of the song as he can remember. He gets more and more into it as he goes along, egged on by the smile on her face. At the end she twirls around on her stool, then jumps to her feet. “It’s a four chair turn!! Congrats you made it through!” 

She announces it with such conviction, he feels a little proud of himself. He laughs, watching her as she bounds up to him.  

“That was  _ so  _ good,” she says. “You’re a natural!” 

“You were right. Everyone knows that song.” 

She grins at him. 

“So now it’s your turn. What are you gonna sing?” 

“You don’t want to choose for me?” 

Her energy is infectious. She looks like a little kid standing in front of him. She brushes his fingers with her own as she takes the cup from his hand. When she raises it to her mouth, all he can see are those big puppy dog eyes. He could look at her forever. 

Her gaze meets his, and their eyes lock like magnets. He feels paralyzed, watching her watch him as she takes another sip.

“All right, give me your phone, let’s see what you got,” he says after a moment, and gestures at the giant pink monstrosity in her hand. “This is the most ridiculous phone case I’ve ever seen in my life by the way.” 

“It’s decoden! This, like, Japanese 3D collage. I wish it was more popular here, but you can still find it on the Internet. Cute right?” 

“That’s one word for it,” he laughs. “But yeah, very cute.” The phone case, covered in plastic clouds, hearts, and donuts, looks like it’s for a hyperactive child, but she’s precious and that’s all he cares about. 

He gets to work scrolling through her music library. There are some surprising choices he notices right off the bat, including one he has to comment on. “You have my album?”

“Well yeah! I thought you knew that? I mean I did just sing your song like 3 days ago.”

“I know but I guess I didn’t think a lot about that. I kinda thought you only knew the one song.” 

“Are you kidding? I love your voice. It’s so smooth and low, it’s so sexy.”  

Neither of them move for a second when the words leave her mouth. Her face, already flushed from the vodka, looks practically neon, even in this dim lighting. 

He wants to hear more about what she finds sexy, but he doesn’t want to press his luck and ruin the whole night. He clears his throat. “Oh, well, thank you. Anyway, let’s find you a song.” 

He continues scrolling through the iTunes library for a few minutes until he finds what he’s looking for. He looks up at her.

“Oh no, what is it?” she asks.

“You definitely know this one.” He shows her the phone, where her own band’s song, Hella Good is set up to play next.

“Noo, that’s dumb. I can’t sing my own song!” 

“Why the hell not? It’s a huge hit, everyone knows it. I don’t give a crap if it’s your song, this is the song I wanna hear,” he says. 

“No, I can’t. It’s cheating. Just pick something else, please?” She puffs out her bottom lip in a pout, leaving him completely helpless.

“Alright, fine. But that would’ve been a four chair turn for sure. You might not get so lucky with the next pick.” 

She laughs, not even pretending to believe he’s serious. “I’ll take my chances.” 

As he browses, he finds a surprising amount of overlap in their taste. He settles on one of his favorites, and decides if he had to sing Katrina and the Waves, she can sing this.

“Alright, I hope you know the Piña Colada song. If not, too bad, cuz that’s what you’re singing.” 

“Oh my God,” she laughs again. She takes her performance stance in the middle of the alley. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Wait,” he says. He walks up to her and takes the cup from her hand. He’s standing too close to her, invading her space, and he thinks she might be holding her breath. Their eyes lock as he takes a drink. He brushes her fingers as he hands the cup back to her. With their gazes still holding he says, “Okay. Now we’re ready.”

He takes a seat back on his coach’s stool and raises the phone over his head. “3, 2, 1 go!” 

She doesn’t make it through the intro before she starts to laugh. She misses the first bar completely, then tries to catch up on the second. But it turns out she doesn’t really know the words, so she’s a half beat behind, and sometimes a full beat because she’s laughing. It sounds awful, but Blake could listen to it for hours. She’s a little bit self-conscious and a little bit self-deprecating, which only adds to the charm of watching her try to sing along to a song whose words she doesn’t know. As the first verse continues, she remembers more and more of it. By the time the chorus arrives, she’s fully invested. 

As she belts out, “If you like piña coladas!” she extends her arms out like a virtuoso, sending their cocktail flying everywhere. It hardly registers though, as she continues to belt out lyrics about about finding her perfect match, with her eyes sparkling, ponytail bouncing, arms gesturing all over the place. She’s radiant. He’s grinning like a maniac and cheering her on, fully entranced by her performance. 

At the bridge, she stops and smiles at him. A huge, luminous smile that transforms her entire face. He nearly gets up to go to her, but the next verse begins and she goes back into performance mode. She continues, performing the hell out of this cheesy old love song, looking happy and carefree as she moves along to her words. 

When their eyes meet again, he feels a clarity he hasn’t felt in a very long time. They’re not talking, or fooling around, they’re playing a ridiculous made up game in a dark alley, and it’s the most fun he can remember having in forever. All because of her. She makes him feel better. About life, about himself. The days he’s spent with her feel different than any other time, as if she was always supposed to be with him, she’s just been missing until now. Watching her sing and move and smile, he doesn’t ever want the moment to end. 

But of course it does. She ends the song with gusto, then bounces up and down, feeling proud of herself. He rises to give her a standing ovation. “Four chairs! You made it!” Then softer, sincerely, “That was incredible.” 

“It was so fun,” she says, her smile wide. 

He takes a step forward as she skips up to him. When their bodies meet, she rests her hands on his shoulders, rises on her tiptoes, and puts her lips to his. The kiss only lasts a second. It’s full and confident, like they’ve been kissing for years. But when she opens her eyes and realizes what she’s done, her face freezes. Her hands are still on his shoulders, while his are just above her hips. He smiles and takes a small step forward, so their bodies are only separated by a couple of inches. She still looks panicked, but he can feel her body relaxing. They stand staring at each other, barely breathing, both preparing to make the next move. 

But the next moment doesn’t come. Instead, their car arrives. The headlights blind them and they pull away from one another. Gwen waits for him as he moves the stool back to its original spot. When he returns to her, he holds out his hand, and she takes it.

He lets her climb in first then follows her, settling into the backseat, leaving a bit of space between them. Once the car is moving, Gwen shifts closer to the middle. Neither of them have said anything since the kiss. She remains wordless now, giving him a small smile as she picks up his hand and holds onto it as they make their way home.

  
  
  



	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note to say thank you so much to everyone who has been reading & commenting. This story means so much to me and I'm gonna really miss it, but I'm beyond thrilled people have been enjoying it! I hope reading this final chapter leaves you feeling all squishy inside. xo

Chapter 10. 

It’s dark in the car. Black seats and tinted windows it feels much later than it is. It gives the moment a wicked feeling. As Gwen watches the city lights flash by below the freeway, she tries to think of something to say to break the tension. But at the same time she doesn't want to say too much about their current situation. Beside her Blake’s leg is bouncing at warp speed, whether because he's nervous or excited, she's not sure. And truthfully, she's not sure which scares her more. He’s holding her hand firmly, protectively, as if he’s worried if he lets go she’ll be lost. His thumb rubs a line up and down along the skin of the back of her hand.

She closes her eyes and focuses on the feel of his touch. It’s been so long since she had any kind of contact with someone who wanted her, and even longer since she felt this kind of desire in return. And that was with her husband who knew every inch of her, and felt too familiar. This rush of newness is exhilarating but daunting. Blake’s hand is huge, and callused, though surprisingly soft and gentle. His lips were the same, full and plush. She wants to explore them, memorize them, find out what else they can do. But the idea of starting over, of going through all the ups and downs is the last thing she needs. Falling in love is torture and she’s had enough torture for one year already. 

This isn’t love though. It can’t be. It’s only been a week and they haven’t even kissed. Not a  _ real _ kiss. This is a friend who she can cuddle with and talk to about her problems, and who can be a distraction while her world falls apart. But the way he’s holding her hand, the way he talks to her, the way when their eyes lock it’s like nothing else in the universe matters. It feels like more than a distraction... 

She blinks hard, exhaling all of the nervous thoughts out of her mind. She needs to cut the tension and get back to the fun, goofy vibe of 30 minutes ago. 

“What are waders?” she asks. 

His brow creases and he looks around the car for a moment before turning his face to her. “Sorry, what?”

“What are waders? Earlier you said I’d look good--”

He cuts her off with a laugh. “Right, right I remember. It’s true by the way. You’d look good in anything.” 

“Ha. I don’t know about that—“ 

“I do,” he says, cutting her off. 

It’s her instinct to move away from these comments, compliments that are almost forceful in their tone, like he’s demanding she believe them. Maybe something inside her thinks he can’t be so sure about her, that this confidence he has in her must be a trap. 

His hand feels so good wrapped around hers though, and the warmth radiating from him is more intoxicating than the vodka she’s been sipping all evening. So she leans closer to him and keeps the conversation going. 

“But what are they? Waders? Like shoes?” 

Blake laughs at that. “Kinda. Not exactly. They’re for fishing and like other kinds of messy outdoors stuff. They’re basically overalls with boots attached. They used to be rubber but now they come in neoprene or nylon or whatever. And the tops are like suspenders basically. It’s sort of like a tent for your body. They’re not flattering on anyone. But _you_ could make them look good.”  

He glances at her with a nervous smile then turns away. He stretches his body out so that his head and shoulders lean against hers as he digs in his pocket. Once he’s retrieved his phone he doesn’t bother sitting up, instead staying spread across the backseat with his head resting on her shoulder. He keeps hold of her hand as he manages his phone with just his left thumb. She watches as he pulls up his browser and searches for a visual.

“Mmkay,” he says. She feels the strength of his jaw against her bare skin, and the warmth of his breath in the air around her face. He brings the device closer to her eyes, too close actually. She takes hold of the phone, letting her fingers cover his as she adjusts it to have a look. 

Just like he explained, they’re like tall rain boots that turn into overalls. They’re the material of a backpack and have no shape whatsoever. 

“Oh those are so funny!” She says. 

“You’d probably wear them and all of a sudden they’re the next big thing in women’s fashion or whatever.”

A couple of ideas for how to style them and make them super cute pop into her mind, but she decides to keep that to herself. Instead she giggles.

“I mean it,” He says, his voice too loud for the small space. He tilts his head back without lifting it from her shoulder, so his lips are just centimeters from her jawline. “Don’t think I haven’t seen pictures of all your crazy looks over the years that most people would be scared to try. And now they’re iconic.”

She giggles again and gives in. “Maybe.” 

She shifts her face just enough to look at him, and finds his gaze on her. There’s a softness in the way he looks at her she finds overwhelming. She’s used to men who are charming and confident, cute sometimes, but not sweet. She’s noticed through the week, but not more than right now, a gentleness about him that isn’t part of a game and has nothing to do with flirting. It’s genuine. There’s a hundred reasons why she should be more careful about whatever’s going on between them, but when he’s next to her it’s hard to remember what they are. It’s in the tender way he’s looking at her and the way he holds her hand. The firm, nearly possessive, grip sweetened by the delicate touch of his thumb massaging her skin. She’s safe with him. She feels an intuitive faith that he could be willing to give her what no one else has before. 

She rests her cheek against his head on her shoulder, and takes their clasped hands with her free hand and holds them in her lap. They sit quietly like that for what feels like ages. Blake is still beside her. If he’s nervous now he’s doing a great job of hiding it. 

Gwen tries to focus on the feelings of the moment. Being mindful, living in the moment, those are things she’s trying to practice. Her brain betrays her, moving a thousand miles an hour reminding her of just how much could go wrong if she lets herself go for this man. But she fights it, focusing again on his gentleness, and how attractive it is to find someone so big, sturdy and manly, who can be so soft at the same time.

“I can’t wait to hear your songs,” he says.

The words break her reverie. She’d forgotten all about the reason for bringing him home with her. She doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry when she realizes she’s been making this car ride a lot more dramatic than it needed to be. She invited him over to listen to her music. But then why had she been so anxious? So full of anticipation? 

“Gwen? You ok? You having second thoughts?” 

His question snaps her to attention. “Huh? Second thoughts?” 

“You know, if you aren’t ready to share what you wrote yet, it’s ok I can—“

“No!” She wants to laugh because as charming as he is most of the time, he can be so awkward and bashful the next second. “I want you to hear them. I can’t wait actually.” 

“Oh,” he says. She can feel the way his jaw moves as he breaks into a smile. ”Well alright then.”  

“They’re kind of dark. I mean there’s a couple of really sad ones that I did in the spring like before I was really ready or in the groove or whatever, but then the ones I did the other week are more like pissed off. There’s this one, 'Red Flag' where I sound kind of hysterical actually because he like really made me so fucking mad earlier in the day and I just wanted to punch him in the face.” She laughs nervously, “you’ll see what I mean.” 

The driver interrupts to verify the address. She didn’t even realize they were coming up on Mulholland already, as wrapped up as she’s been in Blake’s company. For the last few minutes of the ride he makes small talk with the driver, while Gwen listens in, captivated by the way he’s able to talk to anyone like they’re old friends. She envíes him, because while she considers herself a people person, she’s not a natural conversationalist like he is.  She watches his face in the dim light. It’s more than being good at talking to people, he’s genuinely interested in what the driver has to say, and actively listening to the older man talk about his daughter and her kids coming up to visit. Blake is confident in his extroversion, but he’s humble. There’s no sign that he thinks he’s better than this driver, or the crew on the show or even the contestants. He’s such a refreshing change from the fragile ego she’s lived with for so long. Her relief is nearly physical, and she snuggles into him in response, wrapping herself around his arm, and tightening her grip on his hand.

Finally they come to the gate to her neighborhood. “Hey Frank, buddy,” Blake says, “If you wanna pull up a little bit I’ll punch in the code from back here.” 

Without even a glance at her Blake reaches out his window to the security box and types in the code she gave him the morning he came over for breakfast. 

“You memorized the gate code?” She asks. 

He grunts a little chuckle. “Yeah, guess it was kind of a _Field of Dream_ s kinda thing, like 'if you remember it, she will invite you again.'”

She grins, making sure to lock eyes with him. “You are so dumb. But also like, really smart too. How do you do that?” 

He tries to keep a straight face but his dimples betray him. “Just a God-given gift I guess.” 

She laughs, and puts her arms around him for an awkward hug. He laughs along with her, and holds her tightly, though the angle in the backseat of the SVU doesn’t allow for very close contact. 

**

They climb out at the beginning of the driveway, sending Frank on his way, saying they’re happy to take the last stretch on foot. Blake lingers close behind her as she punches in the code for the second gate, so close that his little belly grazes against her back, and his chest nearly drapes over her shoulder. He puts his hands on her hips, gently pressing his fingertips into her skin. There’s a calm security about the way he’s holding her. It’s intimate without being aggressive. There’s nothing presumptuous about it, just a contentment at being close to her however he can. When the gate opens, she takes the lead, clasping onto his hand without looking at him, guiding him to pivot with her as they wait for the slow-moving gate to open. 

The walk down the driveway is more peaceful than their earlier playful vibe. In the calm summer night, with tall privacy hedges lining the drive, it feels like a romantic garden stroll. Blake walks close beside her, keeping his steps short so they remain side-by-side, perfectly in sync. They glance at each other, sharing a shy smile whenever their eyes meet. 

Her pulse gets faster as they reach the door, and by the time they’re inside, standing at the kitchen island, the nervous energy is almost too much handle. It occurs to her this is the first time in 45 years of life that she’s ever brought a guy home after a night of drinking. She went from innocent high school boyfriends, to Tony, but she lived with her parents the whole time they were together, and then she met Gavin while they were on tour, so that was all buses and hotel rooms. 

Not that she brought Blake home for a drunken hookup, she reminds herself. They’re just hanging out. Still, tonight feels different than the last time she invited him over. It was 7 o’clock in the morning, first of all. But more than the time, that was to make him feel better on a bad day, to help him through his divorce. Tonight doesn’t have anything to do with needing someone to talk to or not wanting to be alone. She just wants to spend time with him. He’s attractive and kind and funny and he doesn’t take himself too seriously. And right now his huge manly hand is rubbing up and down her spine while he stares around her kitchen and she overanalyzes their situation. She needs a distraction from her distraction. 

“Wine! Do you want some wine?” 

He looks caught off guard, but he smiles and shrugs. “Um, sure. Why not?” 

She nods and walks away from him to the wine rack in the pantry. She returns with a bottle of Pinot noir in the crook of her arm, then pulls down two glasses from a cabinet, setting them in front of him. “Bring those and follow me,” she says. 

“Yes ma’am.” As she leads him away, he says, “I still can’t get over your house. It’s like a museum in here, it’s so cool.”    
  
She spins around, walking backwards, his own private curator. He’s moving slowly, looking exactly like a patron at a museum, inspecting each detail like an exhibit. She smiles, imagining how different his ranch in Oklahoma must be from this place. “Haha, thanks. It’s a little bit too much sometimes, like sometimes I walk in and I can’t believe I live here. But it’s also home, you know? I put a ton of work into making it look like this. But if you like this I should show you the rest of it. I’m like obsessed with my bedroom. I should give you the full tour later.”    
  
Heat rushes to her face. She glances at him quickly, unsure if that sounded like innuendo, unsure if she meant it to be.    
  
He doesn’t bite. Instead he smiles and says, “that’d be great.”

She takes him to the outdoor living room. It’s one of her favorite parts of the house, cozy and relaxing. The calm California air wafting through offers welcome refreshment after a long day. 

“Oh, yeah, okay,” Blake says as they step outside, nodding as he looks around the open space. 

Although it’s dark out, the dim overhead lights, security lighting around the backyard, and ever present light pollution from the city allow her to see his face clearly. He reminds her a little of Alice in Wonderland, confused but happy, taking in the strange new land.

She plops down in the middle of the black sectional couch, and pats the seat next to her. “Come sit!” 

She puts the wine bottle between her knees, and gets to work uncorking it, trying to manage it while watching him at the same time. He shakes his head a little, like he’s telling himself something, and joins her. When he reaches her knees, he furrows his brow a bit. As she looks up at him, she realizes the problem. The couch is very low to the ground, great for little kids, terrible for giant country guys. He sets the glasses on the coffee table and reaches down to support himself on the back of the couch as he lowers himself into the seat. He rolls a little as he lands, invading her personal space, his chest hitting her shoulder as his hand reaches out to catch himself against her leg. He’s stopped just short of being totally on top her, and it makes her breath catch. He locks eyes with her and gives her a shy smile. “Hi,” he says. 

“Hi.” Her voice comes out in a whisper. She braces herself for the next moment, but he lifts himself off of her, settling in next to her, with an arm along the back of the couch behind her shoulders, not quite wrapped around her. 

She finishes uncorking the bottle and with his free arm he reaches forward for the glasses before she can ask. She watches him move. Most people would have had to almost get up to reach the table, but his long body moves effortlessly, long fingers wrapping around the stems of both wine glasses at once, managing to keep his arm behind her through the movement. She stares at his fingers, then his arm, as they float towards her. In public, he’s self-deprecating and sometimes dorky, but when it’s just the two of them there’s an ease about him, a sense that he’s comfortable in his own skin. It attracts her like a magnet. He has no idea how cool he is. 

“Here you go,” he says, his voice close to her ear. She takes one glass, filling it and placing it on the ground next to her, then fills the other while he holds it out to her. 

“Cheers,” he says, holding his wine out to her, waiting for her to collect hers. They smile at each other over the happy clink of glass on glass.

They sip quietly for a moment, relaxing together. As she settles back, her hand finds his leg. It’s become a familiar movement, an automatic gesture, as if it’s been resting there their whole lives. Past her shoulder, his fingers tap a rhythm against the leather of the sofa. 

“It’s incredible out here,” he says after a few minutes. “That breeze comin’ in feels so good. And you got a good size lot it looks like. Doesn’t feel so, like, congested. Barely even feels like the city. And you hear that?” 

“What?” She looks around.

“Nothing. It’s quiet. No honking, no cars, no construction. I don’t think I’ve ever had a night in LA that felt peaceful before.” 

He sounds so in awe, it makes her laugh. “You really don’t like it here, huh?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m not a city guy at all, but it’s not horrible.” He looks her straight in the eye. “There are definitely things I really like about it.” 

She tries to hold his gaze, but nerves get the best of her. She hides her face by taking a long sip of wine.

He senses her unease and retreats back a few inches, though not far enough to remove the arm stretched behind her. “So,” he says, “Were you still willing to play me some of the songs you’ve been working on?”

Grateful to him for finding a direction for their conversation, she bounces in her seat. His sturdy frame doesn’t flinch. He stays relaxed into the back of the couch, smiling at her as she moves her arms frantically. 

“Oh shit,” she says. “I don’t know where I left my phone, stay right there!” 

“Yes, ma’am.”

She hops up and hurries back inside to find the phone, either in her bag or on a counter. She tries to tell herself to calm down. She thought the wine would help her, but adrenaline is winning out. Blake snuggled into her favorite sofa in the house, leaning into her, looking so at home after only a minute or two of awkwardness, it feels way too perfect. There has to be a catch. When she reaches the kitchen, she realizes her phone has been in her back pocket the entire time. Laughing at herself, she hops up and down, shaking her arms and head, trying to rid herself of this nervous energy. It helps. She takes a couple of deep breaths before heading outside.

A smile leaps across her face the minute she sees him. She can feel herself calming down again. He’s sitting with both arms spread across the back of the couch, his knees bowing out as his long legs relax into the cushions. Left by himself, formalities forgotten, his body takes up more than half of the sectional. She has an overwhelming urge to sit on his lap, to feel how solid and strong his workingman’s leg feels under her weight. 

He notices how she’s looking at him and meets her smile. “Did you find it?” 

“Find—“

“Your phone.” 

“Oh! My phone! Yeah...actually it was in my pocket the whole time.”

He bursts out laughing. There’s no eye roll, no sarcastic comment, or any kind of demeaning reaction she’s used to in this situation. Instead, she’s getting a full, wheezing laugh that turns his eyes narrow and his face red. He leans forward, pressing his hands into his knees as if to support himself in the effort of being this amused. He doesn’t break eye contact, grinning at her, delighted in this shared anecdote they’ve created. 

Her cheeks hurt from the effort of matching his smile. She feels breathless, elated by his amusement and the way he’s looking at her. She skips as she approaches. He straightens as she reaches him. Their eyes are still locked as she plops herself beside him, so close their hips and thighs are pressed together. When he stretches his arm out again, she burrows in closer to him, cuddling against his side as her hand returns to its place on his leg. This time, his arm closes around her, pulling her closer still, his hand running along her bare arm. 

He raises his eyebrows at her, letting her take charge of the conversation. She realizes then that her phone is once again in her back pocket. When she rolls away from him to reach the phone, his hand instinctively tightens around her. They share a soft smile when she’s returned to the burrow they’ve made in his side. 

“Okay...so I don’t know, these songs aren’t like, party songs, you know what I’m saying? They're probably gonna kill the mood…”

“I can take it. Unless you want to wait?”

“No! No, I’m ready. I want to share them. I mean, I want to share them with you.” 

She locks eyes with him, hoping her face will tell him what her words can’t. That she wants to be able to tell him her secrets, to trust him with everything, and have him do the same with her. She wants to tell him he’s the only person in her life right now who might truly understand the words she sings. That she’s grateful she can even say ‘he’s in my life.’ 

Their gazes hold for a long time. It feels like too long, like it should have gotten awkward, but when they’re in sync like this, she’s too mesmerized to move, even if she wanted to. The look in his eyes is soft. Something like hopeful and encouraging. 

She gives him a small smile, then focuses on her phone. As she flips to the playlist, she lets her head fall against his chest. His hand moves from her arm down to her waist, letting his weight anchor her, and keep her grounded. 

She opens the playlist, adjusts the settings, and hits play. A somber, mid-tempo piano melody wafts out of the ceiling. Blake’s head shoots up briefly, surprised by the sound system. But when Gwen’s melancholic voice joins the piano, it grabs his full attention. She watches his face in profile as she rests against him. His eyes are focused on nothing. His jaw is clenched. He holds her tighter as he listens to her song, in which she’s telling another man he shouldn’t have taken her for granted. When it’s over, she hits pause and waits for him to react.

“Wow,” he says. “That’s all I can say, I mean, wow. The song is beautiful. You’re so talented. The melody matches the lyrics perfect and wow. Have I mentioned he’s an idiot?” 

She snuggles into him. “I’m kind of starting to think that might be a blessing.” 

He makes a sound to agree. “What is that called?”

“Oh it’s called ‘You Don’t Know Me.’ It was so crazy like I didn’t want to be in the studio at all, like it was the same week that I finally decided I needed Gavin gone out of my house, so that had just happened and like, I couldn’t stop crying and like I thought it was gonna be a complete disaster. But it wasn’t. It was super scary, but then I was sitting at the piano and I don’t even know, the song just came out. And I cried a lot, they all thought I was crazy, but they played it back and I was like...wait. This is what I wrote? Oh my God! So after that I was like, ok this is what I’m gonna do.” 

“You mean you just sat down at a piano and wrote this? Just like that?” He leans back a little to look at her, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah! I didn’t expect it at all. You don’t even understand how long it’s been since I was really excited about something I wrote like that.” 

He smiles softly. “That’s amazing! You’re...heh, yeah. _Wow._ Incredible.” 

The way he looks at her, the sincerity of his words, twist a dial deep inside her. Feeling more confident she sits up. She pulls one leg up and tucks it under her, letting her knee rest on top of Blake’s leg as she sits facing him on the couch. She smiles as she notices his large hand splayed around her hip. 

“Ok the next one is 'Medicine Man'. I wrote it with Linda Perry. Do you know her?” 

Blake shakes his head, “I know the name but don’t think we’ve met.” 

“Ok, well she’s rad.” 

Blake chuckles, “okay.”

She leans forward to pick up her wine glass. She hits play on the song, then takes a drink as she waits for Blake’s reaction. The second song is slower, and maybe even more raw than the first one. Just Gwen, an acoustic guitar, and a simple melody.

Hearing the song hits her harder than she expected. She shifts in her seat and sips her wine as she tries not to let the lyrics ruin her mood. Blake senses her discomfort and pulls her into him, giving her a one armed hug. He takes the wine glass from her and places it on the ground, then envelops her completely. He continues to hold her as Gwen’s voice fills the space around them with declarations that she’s done trying to fix someone who couldn’t be fixed, who brought her down with him for so long. 

The contrast between that man and the one here with her now is staggering. Blake terrifies her, not because she thinks he will hurt her, but because she can’t imagine he ever would. There’s a safety, a familiarity, resting here in his arms that she’s never felt before. Not at the beginning of a relationship, and not after years and years. Being held by him feels exactly like what’s been missing. But as her sad voice sings the rest of it’s sad song, she reminds herself that feeling this way means it would only hurt that much more if she turned out to be wrong. And she’s definitely been wrong before. 

“That was so beautiful,” Blake says. His voice is muffled by his cheek pressed against her head. “I mean, I knew you were a phenomenal writer. Everyone knows that. But that song...it’s like you just wrote exactly what I was feeling, but I didn’t know how to say it until you sang it for me. That’s...I wish I could do that.” 

“But, you write don’t you? You told me about the song for that _Angry Birds_  movie. That’s like huge!”

“Well Yeah. But that’s just a cute little thing. It’s nothing like what you just played me. I don’t know, I just don’t think I can express myself as well as real writers.” 

“I bet you’re wrong. I bet you’re really good.”

“I did write this one thing. Well I don’t know if you could say I wrote it. It came to me in a dream like right around what I guess was the beginning of the end with Miranda. I wasn't in a good place at all. It’s like...it’s a spiritual song. But I didn’t finish it. It’s still just me singing on my phone.” 

“Oh my God that’s amazing! Let me hear it.”

“But it’s not a demo or anything, just literally me singing in the middle of the night.”

“That’s okay. I wanna hear. Please?” She bats her lashes at him, and he laughs with an eye roll.

“Okay, alright. Why do I get the idea you’re a woman who’s used to always getting what she wants?” 

The lyrics of ' Medicine Man' still linger. “Not always,” she says. 

He watches her wordlessly as he pulls out his phone, breaking eye contact only to pull up his clip. 

His voice comes through the phone in a melody that sounds like a hymn her sister in law would play at Bible study. It’s only a chorus and is over too quickly. She tells him to play it again. 

On the second listen, she hears Blake, not just his song, and wants to cry. Happy, supportive, charming Blake sounds like a broken shell of himself. It’s his voice, but at the same time, it isn’t. This time it’s her turn to hold him. She lifts herself onto his lap and puts her arms around him. The sound clip is over by the time she pulls his face into the crook of her neck, but she doesn’t care. He may seem further along in the healing process than she is, but he was alone at his darkest hour not so long ago, and she needs him to know he’s not alone anymore. She holds him with her arms around his shoulders, his face in her neck, her cheek in his hair. He wraps his arms around her in return, holding her tight. 

She doesn’t know how long they stay that way. But as they hold each other it becomes clear to her. The energy between them in this moment isn’t one of comfort, it’s reassurance, and relief. His breathing is steady, his heart rate slow. Hers is the same. His fingertips apply a perfect amount of pressure as they cling to her sides.

He breaks the moment by lifting his head. She loosens her arms around his neck so he can sit up a little. His hands slide down her back to her waist. She wets her lips as she looks at him. 

“So you liked it?” he says.

Her mind is blank, and apparently it shows on her face. He smirks. “My song?” 

“Oh!” She laughs. “Yes oh my God, it’s gorgeous. You have to finish it!” 

“Yeah, Okay. Maybe I will.” 

She uses her arms around him to shake him. “No, you have to promise! Please? For me.” 

He huffs out in fake exasperation. “Okay, I’ll call some people and book a session. I promise.” 

“Good,” she grins at him, and becomes acutely aware that she’s sitting on his leg. With his body relaxed against the back of the couch, sitting on him isn’t too different from laying on top of him. 

He seems quite content to have her there, though. He holds onto her with one arm as he picks up a wine glass and takes a sip. When he’s finished she takes the glass from him and sips after him. He chuckles.

“I really love your songs,” he says. 

She smiles. “I’m glad. You’re like one of the first people that’s heard them other than people at the studio and my one friend, Sophie.” 

“Really?” His eyes go wide.

She nods. 

“Wow, that’s...I’m honored. There's more, right? Can I hear the next one?” His tone is so gentle, so loving, she almost wants to cry. 

She finds the play button on her phone, then meets his eye as she turns the music on. 

The mood change from 'Medicine Man' to 'Red Flag' makes her laugh. She watches as he smirks, nodding along as she scolds Gavin in song. His arms wrap low around her waist, one resting on top of her legs while the other rests against her backside. He links his fingers together at her hip, locking her to him. He starts bopping along to the heavy beat, bouncing his leg under her, so she throws an arm around his shoulder to steady herself against him. 

When her voice in the speaker cries out, “this is your punishment!” Blake lets out a grunt. His blue eyes sparkle as he takes in the song. When she laughs in the song, he looks at her. With eyes locked, they bop to the rhythm together. It feels like a dance, though they’re just barely moving. 

So enthralled in each other, they let the music roll into the next song. Suddenly a much faster beat fills the air around them, Gwen’s angry voice chanting accusations. At the chorus, her voice turns to an almost moaning sound. Blake breaks the eye contact, distracted by the sound. He looks up toward the speaker, listening intently. His hold around her waist tightens as he continues to tap his leg to the quick beat. He’s lost in concentration, a small smile on his face. When he glances at her after a minute, his irises are dark. 

“What song is this?”

“It’s called 'Naughty'. I’m kind of in love with it.” 

He has to clear his throat, “uh, me too.”  His leg stops tapping. He clears his throat again. “You really don’t hold back in your music.” 

“I wasn’t even trying really, it just kind of came out,” she says.

“Impressive,” he says. 

They stare at each other for another long moment. With her arm still secured around his shoulders, her fingers play with the curls at the back of his neck. He’s still sort of smiling, though now his lips are parted. The way he’s looking at her sends heat all the way through her. Her breathing feels heavy. Her entire body feels glued to him. 

The moment breaks when her own voice interrupts them. Through the speakers she moans loudly, and Blake jumps. Her voice in the song cries out, “ohhh my God!” 

She hadn’t realized it was such a sexual sound until now, watching a man's reaction to it. The guys at the studio are professional, and half of them are gay. But the effect it seems to be having on Blake sends her heart racing. 

At the third, “oh my God” Blake shifts in his seat. As soon as he adjusts his legs his eyes go wide, and a second later she hears the reason. The sound of fragile glass and liquid crashing to the floor. 

“Oops!” She jumps up off of him, reacting to the sound of a spilled wine glass. Her head spins, from alcohol, from sitting, from Blake. She looks at the ground, then at him. He looks like a guilty little kid. She giggles.

“Shit I’m so sorry, Gwen. Here, let me help.” 

“No, no, it’s fine, there wasn’t much left,” she gasps out the words through her laughter.

“What the hell?” Blake says, frustrated. 

She straightens up. “Really! It’s fine, see?” She gestures to the small puddle, mercifully contained on just the black surface of her carpet and not the white pattern. 

He huffs out an amused grunt. “No, it’s not that. It’s...I think I’m stuck. I can’t get up off this damn couch!” 

She looks at him. His legs are so long that when he bends his knees they come up almost to his face. At this angle, with no chair arms to grab onto, he really does look stuck. Another fit of giggles erupts from her. 

He laughs along with her, although he looks a little panicked too.  

“Here. Let me help you.” She quickly pushes the coffee table out of the way then steps up to him.

“Thank you,” he says. 

She reaches her hands out to him. When they’re gripping each other, she pulls, helping him up as his legs unbend underneath him. He makes a groaning noise like this is a major hardship for him, although his eyes are shining with laughter. 

She pulls again when he’s nearly standing, but her timing is wrong. Caught off guard, he comes crashing into her. They catch each other, with her hands on his hips and his on her arms. He stumbles another half step but she holds onto him as he finds solid footing. 

“Whoa!” She says with a laugh. 

“Thank you for saving me,” he says. He’s using that soft tone again, not the playful one she was expecting. 

“My pleasure.” Her voice comes out breathier than she intended. She’s done laughing. 

Their eyes lock. It’s starting to feel like their default position, gazing at each other. Blake rubs her arms with the back of his knuckles. She tightens her grip on his hips. He moves in a step, so he hovers above her. Still, they hold each other’s gaze. She presses her lips together to wet them, then lets them part. Blake’s eyes are dark and laser-focused. He breaks eye contact finally, moving his eyes to her mouth, lasers pinpointing their target. His gaze flicks back to hers for an instant. She takes the final step forward, so they’re impossibly close. And then in a moment that feels both too slow and too quick, his hands are in her hair and his lips are on her lips. 

She can feel his kiss run through her. Every nerve in her system, every muscle in her body, every inch of her skin, is electrified. She feels everything and nothing at the same time, losing herself in the moment, finally mindful, aware of only herself and the man engulfing her. 

His hands frame her face, thumbs pressing lightly into her cheek bones. His fingers cradle the back of her neck, supporting her as she angles her head upwards to reach him. She grips his sides first, then moves her hands up his back, desperate to pull him to her as tightly as possible. 

Their mouths move against each other like waves, lips crashing together, caressing the surface, and drawing away like the tide. They are both the water and both the sand, in a perfect, natural harmony. 

Their tongues are polite, taking turns exploring, remaining cautious and gentle. Her hands continue to climb, clinging to his shoulders now, gluing their bodies together. Everything else, outside their hands and their mouths, the entire rest of the world is still. 

After an eternity, he shifts the pattern of their kiss and sucks her bottom lip into his mouth, pulling on it, like the sweetest lollipop. She runs the tip of her tongue against his upper lip. He tastes like wine. 

Another instant and he releases her lip. They burst apart, the after effects of a chemical reaction. Their bodies are pressed so close together that they could kiss again without moving any other muscles. They stare at each other, while their chests rise together as they’re both left panting. 

The look on his face is exactly how she feels. Is this what kissing was supposed to feel like all along? Or did she just have her Snow White, Sleeping Beauty moment? Is this the moment she’s finally rescued? Awakened by her true love’s kiss.    
  
There’s a voice in her head telling her she’s being dramatic. It’s the alcohol and the rush of someone new. But she knows the voice is wrong. She knows this time is different. Because one week with him feels more real than an entire lifetime with others. And because while her mind spirals away at warp speed, Blake has barely blinked. He’s perfectly still, his hot breath whispering on her skin, as he stares at her with a stunned look of awe on his face, a smile trying to break through.     
  
She giggles. It’s a small, giddy sound, nervous and full of joy. She puts her hands on his face, brushing his cheek with her thumb.    
  
“Where have you been?” She whispers.   
  
His smile is soft and bittersweet. “I wish I knew.”   


She feels her heart expand, sending warm blood to every edge of her. He sucks in a breath of air as he watches her. She combs her fingers thru his hair. He drops his hands to her waist, where his fingers play with her hem. She presses her lips to his again, but this time it’s short and firm like a promise. Then she wraps herself around him completely, hanging onto him like a necklace. 

They continue to stand there, watching each other, holding each other, and occasionally helping themselves to new kisses.

She’s starting to come back down into her body, feeling her exhaustion after a long day and one too many drinks. She feels also the pinch and pressure of high heels that are perfect height for kissing tall cowboys, but completely impractical for anything else. Whether they’re so connected he shifts at the same moment or he senses her mood, he wraps his arms around her, supporting all of her weight as he holds her in a hug. 

His voice is low and dry when he speaks. “Maybe we should clean up that spill,” he says. 

She takes half a step back so she can look at his eyes again. “Probably.”

He nods and moves to step away, but she keeps her arms around him, locking him in place. He’s easily persuaded, and wraps his arms back around her with a laugh and another kiss. 

“After we’re done here maybe I should give you that tour. Like show you the rest of the house.” It’s a challenge to make her voice sound innocent but she nails it.

He looks blank for a split-second before comprehension sets in. He nods. “As long you’re my tour guide you can show me whatever you want.”

They both giggle shyly at the double entendre. 

“So I’ll just run in and get paper towels,” he says, but it comes out as a question. 

“I’ll come with,” she says. “I think the glass broke too. We can clean it up together. I’ll help you pick up the pieces.” 

He nods again. They hold each other’s gaze for another long moment before finally moving apart. They wrap their arms around each other as they cross the room, and head inside the house. 

**

Inside, he moves around her kitchen like he belongs there, and she thinks, maybe he does. He hands her a strand of dry paper towel, then wets another in the sink. “Where’s the carpet spray?” He asks.

There’s nothing sexy at all about his question, but her nerves are still on fire, and there’s still just enough alcohol in her veins to make her feel bold. He must see it in her eyes, because he stops what he’s doing and steps to her. Her arms automatically wrap around his middle, while he pins her against the kitchen island with his body. 

“I don’t think we really need it,” She says, her voice low and throaty.

“No?” Blake says. His face is so close to hers that his lips ghost across hers when they move. 

She arches into him involuntarily, dipping her head back to lock eyes with him once again. “We can leave it til tomorrow,” she says. “It’ll keep.” 

Though she can’t see his lips, she knows they’re open. She’s already knows his mouth, as if it was a missing part of her recently reunited. He rests his hands on her hips the way he’d put a key on its hook, so sure they belong there that the movement is automatic. He smiles as he looks at her, and she smiles back. It’s the kind of happy smile that squeezes against the apples of her cheeks. His eyes are gleaming, the blue of them shimmering like the ocean. She holds onto his gaze as long as she can, until her eyes drift closed at the new, familiar feeling of his kiss.


End file.
